The poem which was to make or unmake Mr. Thorburn was no metaphysical treatise done into rhyme--no ambitious epic, ponderous as Milton, without Miltonic grandeur. It was a modern romance in verse--a love-story--passionate, tender, tragical, and the heart of the poet throbbed in every line. His life in Paris was eventless. Very dear to him were the letters that came from Greenlands--letters in which Helen’s name appeared very often,--letters in which he was told that his absence was regretted, his return wished for. “It is like having a home,” he said to himself; “and I dare not return to that dear home, or must return only to confess my secret and submit to a decree of banishment!” One of the letters from Greenlands--a letter that came to him when he had been about six weeks in Paris--brought him startling news: Harold Jerningham was a widower. The handsome young wife, whom Eustace had heard of from his employer, had died at Madeira. “They met before the lady left England,” wrote M. de Bergerac, “and parted excellent friends. Indeed, they had never quarrelled. The reason of their separation was never revealed to the world, but Harold has half-admitted to me that he was to blame.” CHAPTER X. SIT TIBI TERRA LEVIS. FOR Emily Jerningham life’s fitful fever was ended. The change to a softer climate, the welcome warmth of southern breezes, had given her a brief respite, but her doom had been sealed long ago, and her existence had been only a question of so many weeks more or less. The journey by sea and the first two weeks in the strange island were very sweet to Emily Jerningham. Laurence Desmond accompanied her on that final voyage, and friendship, sanctified by the shadows of the grave, attended her closing days. This seemed the natural solution to the enigma of her perplexed existence. Death alone could make an easy end of all her difficulties, and she accepted the necessity as a blessed release. “It has been made easy to me to resign you, Laurence,” she said, “and to pray for your future happiness with another. That poor little girl! I know she loves you very dearly. She reverences you as a heroic creature. Upon my word, sir, you are very fortunate. With me, had Fate united us, you would have been compelled to endure all manner of jealousies and caprices; and from that simple Lucy you will receive the pious worship that is ordinarily given only to saints.” Mrs. Jerningham would not allow Laurence to remain with her until the last dread hour. When they had been a fortnight on the island, and had exhausted the little excursions and sights of the place, she persuaded Mr. Desmond to return to England.