Then he knelt down beside her and held her in his arms, as once on a bygone day she had held him. The thought seemed to strike her, for she said:— “A year ago to-night; do you remember? Oh! Henry, if I have sinned, it has been paid back to me to the uttermost. Surely there can be nothing more to suffer. And I am happy because—I think that you will love me better dead than ever you did alive. ‘The way of transgressors —the way of——’”and she ceased, exhausted. “I shall love you now, and then, and always—that I swear before God,” he answered. “Forgive me, Joan, that I should ever have doubted you even for a moment. I was deceived, and did not understand you.” Again she smiled, and said, “Then I have done well to die, for in death I find my victories—the only ones. But you must love the child also—our child—Henry, since we shall wait for you together in the place—of peace.” A while went by, and she spoke again, but not of herself or him:— “I have left Mrs. Bird in London—some money. When Mr. Levinger is dead—there will be a good deal; see that—she gets it, for they were kind to me. And, Henry, try to shield my husband—for I have sinned against him—in hating him so much. Also tell your wife nothing—or you will make her wretched—as I have been.” “Yes,” he answered, “and your father is dead; he died some hours ago.” After this Joan closed her eyes, and, bleeding inwardly from her pierced lungs, grew so cold and pulseless that Henry thought she must be gone. But it was not so, for when half an hour or more had passed she spoke, with a great effort, and in so low a whisper that he could scarcely hear her words, though his ear was at her mouth. “Pray God to show me mercy, Henry—pray now and always. Oh, one hour of love—and life and soul to pay!” she gasped, word by word. Then the change came upon her face, and she added in a stronger voice, “Kiss me: I am dying!” So he pressed his lips on hers; and presently, in the midst of the great silence, Joan Haste’s last sobbing breath beat upon them in a sigh, and the agony was over. Two hours later Henry arrived at Rosham, to find his mother and Mr. and Mrs. Milward waiting to receive him. “My dear Henry, where have you been?” said Lady Graves. “It is twelve o’clock, and we were beginning to fear that something had gone wrong at Monk’s Lodge.” “Or that you had met with another accident, dear,” put in Ellen. “But I haven’t given you a kiss yet, to welcome you home. Why, how pale you look! and what is the matter with your coat?” “Where is Emma?” he asked, waving her back. “She was so dreadfully tired, dear,” said Lady Graves, “that I insisted upon her going to bed. But has anything happened, Henry?” “Yes, a great deal. Mr. Levinger is dead: he died in his sleep this evening.”