Long and earnestly they conversed, and Mabel drew from her lover all his varied history. Into her ear he poured forth the long hidden, but still fervent love that even his belief in her estrangement could never subdue. Then he told of his promise to Charles Wentworth, of Evelyn’s tender love, and his almost involuntary engagement. Mabel heard his words with a beating heart, each moment her cheek grew paler, but in her eye and on her lip there rested a look of calm, almost sublime self-sacrifice, a firm resolve to obey the dictates of that still, small voice within. “Walter,” she said, in a tone so low and solemn that he was awed—“Walter, you must never breathe to human ear the secret of our mutual love; it would kill Evelyn, she is your plighted wife; would you snap the frail thread of her young life; your promise to that dying man forbids it, your own conscience forbids it. “Walter, my beloved, my cherished friend, my brother, remember her _life_ depends on the fidelity with which you keep this secret, and I charge you, as you will answer to her brother, that you be not guilty of her life!” “Oh, Mabel, my angel Mabel, must it indeed be so; is there no hope—think how hard it will be to press back once again the rushing tide of love that has for long years been gathering silently yet strongly in my heart.” “Is it easier, think you, for me,” said the noble girl, lifting her clear eyes, lit with the purity of an angelic spirit, to his; “shall I have no struggle, now that hopes long since crushed have sprung up only to be once more blasted; it is hard, but we can do it, my Walter; yes, and we must do it, faithfully and truly, as we hope for peace in our lives and joy in heaven.” She took once more his hand in hers, and kissed it with a sister’s tenderness—“Be strong, dear _brother_; trust in God, we shall meet again where there is neither sorrow nor sighing—farewell.” The next morning Mabel left M——; she wrote a line to Evelyn, saying that she was summoned to attend the sick-bed of a friend, her old companion, Alice, and wishing her, at the same time, the purest happiness earth can bestow. In a few weeks Walter and Evelyn were married. CHAPTER VII. Mighty ones, Love and Death, Ye are strong in this world of ours; Ye meet at the banquet, ye dwell amidst the flowers —Which hath the conqueror’s wreath. Hemans.