He bowed his head and prayed fervently for the welfare of the soul about to be launched upon the shoreless waters of eternity.
When the low "amen" vibrated on the night air, she looked up and said moaningly:
"Have you forgiven me, too, Lawrence?"
He bent and kissed the poor, pale, quivering lips.
"All is forgiven, Sydney," he answered, gently.
"Then call the physician," she moaned. "Let him draw this cruel steel from—my breast! I cannot—bear it—any longer!"
But the physician recoiled as Captain Ernscliffe had done when she told him what she wished him to do.
"I should feel like a murderer," he gasped. "You could not live a minute after the blade was drawn out of your breast."
She turned away from him and put out her hand to the man she loved so madly.
"Farewell, Lawrence," she said. "Think of me sometimes as of one who—loved you—'not wisely, but too well!'"