Guy could stand this no longer, he feared the girl's mind would become demented if allowed to continue in such a strain; he stole over, and putting his arms gently around her, he drew her away from the figure of the dead man—
"Honor," he whispered, "you must come away now, this will harm you—you look so tired and ill already, you must take great care of yourself darling,—for my sake, do." Very mechanically she obeyed, and turned away. Guy felt as if in this mutual sorrow, they had been drawn closer together than any other tie could bring them; he raised the pallid, serious face, and kissed it tenderly, saying—
"You must bear up, my darling, for you know what a great grief it would be to him, to know that you suffered so."
"Trust me, Guy," she answered softly, "I will brave it—but then you know, he was my father, and I loved him."
"Yes, that is all true, my love, but you must remember he is better off, and he has left his blessing with us, for all our lives."
"And we will merit it, Guy, will we not, he was so good, so kind, so true?"
"That we will, Honor, I swear it, I will never forget the pledge I spoke into his dying ears."
"Nor I," she answered, in a whisper.
They left the room together, and Honor stole away to her own quarters; she saw no more of her dear guardian after that, until the funeral day, when she pressed the last long kiss of eternal farewell on his cold, unfeeling lips, that was the scene which racked her poor tried heart with all the sharpest pangs that grief doth know she fancied, at that moment her endurance must yield, and her heart break, but she remembered dimly having been carried away to another room, and when she saw and felt again, all was over.
* * * * *