"They say I am better; but, Daisy, I know the time is near for me to go. I shall never get well, and I do not wish to, though life is not a gift to be thrown away easily, and on some accounts mine has been a happy one, but the life beyond is better, and I feel sure I am going to it." "Oh, Tom, Tom, don’t talk so. You must not leave me now," Daisy cried, all her composure giving way as she fell on her knees beside him, and taking both his hands in hers wet them with her tears. "Tom," she began, when she could speak, "I have been bad to you so often, and worried and wounded you so much; but I am sorry, so sorry,—and I’ve thought it all over real earnestly and seriously, and made up my mind, and I want you to get well and ask me that,—that—question again,—you have asked so many times,—and—and—Tom,—I will say—yes—to it now, and try so hard to make you happy." Her face was crimson as if with shame, and she dared not look at Tom until his silence startled her. Then she stole a glance at him, and met an expression which prompted her to go on recklessly: "Don’t look so incredulous, Tom. I am in earnest. I mean what I say, though it may be unmaidenly to say it. Try me, Tom. I will make you happy, and though at first I cannot love you as I did Guy when I sent him that letter, the love will come, born of your great goodness and kindness of heart. Try me, Tom, won’t you?" She kissed his thin white hands where the freckles showed more plainly than ever, and which Tom tried to free from her; she held them fast and looked steadily into the face, which shone for a moment with a joy so great that it was almost handsome, and when she said again: "Will you, Tom?" the pale lips parted with an effort to speak, but no sound was audible, only the chin quivered and the tears stood in Tom’s eyes as he battled with the temptation. Should he accept the sacrifice? It would be worth trying to live for, if Daisy could be his wife, but ought he to join her life with his? Could she ever learn to love him? No, she could not, and he must put her from him, even though she came asking him to take her. Thus Tom decided, and turning his face to the wall, he said with a choking sob: "No, Daisy. It cannot be. Such happiness is not for me now. I must not think of it, for I am going to die. Thank you, darling, just the same. It was kind in you and well meant, but it cannot be. I could not make you happy. I am not like Guy; never could be like him, and you would hate me after a while, and the chain would hurt you cruelly. No, Daisy, I love you too well,—and yet, Daisy,—Daisy,—why do you tempt me so,—if it could be, I might perhaps get well, I should try so hard." He turned suddenly toward her, and winding both his arms around her, drew her to him in a quick, passionate embrace, crying piteously over her, and saying: