She went to Dove’s piano, and found there the air which she knew so well. And as she played it, so softly that it sounded like some bitter sad leave-taking that the sea had heard and murmured over, Dove lay and listened with a strange look on her face. Will’s hand was in hers, and she drew him down to her, and whispered— "I could have been so happy with you, Will: so very happy, I think. But I had no right to be. Where is the—the paper—I was to sign?" He brought it, and put it on the table beside her bedside; and Miss Brunel came into the room, and went over to Dove. "That is the paper I must sign," said the girl. "But how can I? Will you—will you do it for me? But come closer to me and listen, for I have—a secret——" When Annie Brunel bent down her head to listen, Dove drew the wedding-ring off her finger, kissed it tenderly, and put it on her companion’s hand; and then she said, looking Annie in the face with a faint smile in the peaceful violet eyes—"It is your own name you must sign." At the same moment she lay back exhausted, and to Mr. Anerley, who had hurriedly stepped forward to take her hand, she sighed wearily—"I am so tired; I shall rest." And presently a beautiful happy light stole over the girlish features; and he heard her murmur indistinctly—as if the words were addressed to him from the other world—the old familiar line, "_Meghily, meghily shall I sleep now_." They were the last words that Dove uttered; and the cause of the last smile that was on her sweet face. THE END.