"It's all over, my poor darling. Shall we go away now?" Lucy whispered. "We must go back to his home with him, Lucy. We must show him the last tribute of respect. I have forgiven him. He was more sinned against than sinning," she murmured back. So when the mournful funeral cortege moved from the gates of his stately home, Colonel Carlyle's darling, whom he had so passionately loved despite his jealous madness, went down to the portals of the grave with him, and saw all that was mortal of Clifford Carlyle laid away in the kindred dust. CHAPTER XXXIX. Felise Herbert was pronounced by the most competent physicians a dangerous and incurable maniac. She was accordingly removed to an insane asylum for life. Mrs. Arnold escaped all suspicion of complicity in her daughter's crimes, and was suffered to go free from the terrors of the law. But she had no object in life now. The destruction of her idol had torn down the fair citadel of hope and plunged her into incurable despair. Wealth and position were nothing to her now, since the beautiful girl for whose sake she had schemed to secure them could never enjoy them. Among Felise's effects she found Mr. Arnold's stolen will. In a spasm of remorse, she restored it to the owner, and Bonnibel received her share of the large fortune her Uncle Francis had bequeathed her. Mrs. Arnold went into the insane asylum where her daughter was confined, and became a nurse there for the sake of being near the wretched and violent maniac. And Bonnibel? Colonel Carlyle had bequeathed her the whole of his large fortune, which, added to her inheritance from her uncle, made her one of the wealthiest women in New York. But wealth cannot buy happiness. Mrs. Carlyle, young, beautiful and wealthy though she was, might yet have exclaimed with the gifted poet: "If happiness have not her seat and center in the breast, We may be wise, or rich, or great; we never can be blest." She shut up the splendid New York mansion, and, taking Lucy with her, went back to Sea View, the home she had always loved best. There, lulled by the ocean waves, and nursed by the tender breezes, she hoped to find a measure of rest and contentment. "Lucy, there can be no more talk of mistress and maid between you and me," she said then. "You have proved yourself a true and faithful friend. I shall settle ten thousand dollars upon you, and you shall stay, if you will, as my companion." But Lucy Moore proved obstinate. "I haven't got education enough to be your companion," she answered; "I would rather be your maid still. I love to be about you, and tend you, and care for you." Bonnibel settled the sum she had named upon her, but the devoted girl still remained with her in her old position. Summer came with birds and flowers, and gentle breezes, then waned and faded, as do all things beautiful, and autumn winds blew coldly over the sea.