David's head had sunk, but he mastered himself once more; and he whispered, “I leave you to God--I leave you to life! You can be a soul,--you can win--you _must_ win, you must _live_--and worship--and rejoice! You must kneel here--here, while I am going, never more to return; and you must know that you can never see me again, that I shall no longer exist; and you must cling to your faith in the God who made you, and praise Him for all that He does! And you will not shed a tear--not a tear!” And his grip tightened yet more desperately; he stared in one last wild appeal, and gasped again, “Promise me--not a tear!” And again the throbbing force of his soul roused the girl; she could not speak, she was choking; but she gave a sign of assent, and then all at once David's fearful hold relaxed. He gave one look more, one that stamped itself upon Helen's soul forever by its fearful intensity of yearning; and after it he breathed a sigh that seemed to pant out the last mite of strength in his frame, and sank backwards upon the sofa, with Helen still clinging to him. There for an instant or two he lay, breathing feebly; and the girl heard a faint whisper again--“Not a tear--not a tear!” He opened his eyes once more and gazed at her dimly, and then a slight trembling shook his frame. His chest heaved once more and sank, and after it everything was still. For an instant Helen stared at him, dazed; then she clutched him by the shoulders, whispering hoarsely-then calling louder and louder in frenzied terror, “David, David!” He gave no answer, and with a cry that was fearful to hear the girl clutched him to her. The body was limp and lifeless--the head fell forward as if the neck were broken; and Helen staggered backward with a scream. There came an instant of fierce agony then; she stood in the center of the room, reeling and swaying, clutching her head in her hands, her face upturned and tortured. And first she gasped, “He is dead!” and then “I shall not ever see him again!” And she choked and swallowed a lump in her throat, whispering in awful terror, “Not a tear--not a tear!” And then she flung up her arms and sank forward with an incoherent cry, and fell senseless into Arthur's arms. A week had passed since David's death; and Helen was in her father's home once more, sitting by the window in the gathering twilight. She was yery pale, and her eyes were sunken and hollow; but the beauty of her face was still there, tho in a strange and terrible way. Her hand was resting upon Arthur's, and she was gazing into his eyes and speaking in a deep, solemn voice.