"Yes."
"You came to me, if you remember, with the widow Larkum's baby in your arms, a very timid, and beseeching look on your face at the same time."
I nodded in reply.
"My heart went out to you then and there, as it never did to any woman. I had been fascinated and amused with your ways before that. How I have waited and hoped since then to see you turn to me with the love-light in your eyes! Fear lest I might lose my self-restraint and speak too soon, drove me from you—fear lest some other man would win what I so passionately craved has brought me back. Darling, you have made this the happiest day of my life."
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE END.
I never saw Mrs. Le Grande again alive. The following morning I made my confession to Mr. Winthrop, and got his consent to continue my visits to the sick room, at Rose Cottage, until recovery or death should take place. My one anxiety as I walked along the field and woodland that day, was lest my face might reveal to her keen vision the gladness that thrilled all my pulses. I did not wait to ring the bell but went directly to her rooms. The parlor door was closed; when I opened it, at the farther end of the room I was startled to see a white-robed form lying on one of the sofas.
I hesitated with sudden fear, but finally summoning all my resolution I crossed the room and stood beside the clay-cold form of Mrs. Le Grande. The nurse who was in the adjoining room came to my side and after a few seconds' silence she said, gently:
"I never felt so lonesome with any dying person as with her last night."