“You will never see me again, for I cannot bear my life without your love! I shall end it to-night, and when you hear of my death you will know I did it for your sake, and may the thought of it prove a thorn in the roses of your happiness!” Cora’s voice sank to a low, sobbing cadence as she added: “He looked wild enough to do any rash deed, but I did not believe him, I thought he was only trying to frighten me. I said good night quickly, and ran into the house, for I was almost frozen, and scared half to death from our interview.” “Poor Cora--poor Noel! It was very distressing to you both, I know, and I fear he really carried out his threat, for nothing has been heard of him yet, and his relatives are getting very anxious,” said Laurier gravely, almost wishing in his heart that Cora had taken pity on Noel’s love and accepted him. He knew well that she had coquetted with the young man and led him on to his madness--he had seen it all along while he lay ill--but it was useless to tax her with the wrong, he could only think bitterly: “Why will women break hearts for pastime?” But following the thought, a pale, reproachful face seemed to rise before him, and lips that he had kissed for the whim of a moment--red, rosy lips--seemed to murmur: “What of men?” So he could not reproach Cora; he was not without fault himself. The days passed quickly with no tidings of Noel, and the twenty-second of December came--his wedding day! Oh, with what joy he had looked forward to it once! The day that should give him proud, beautiful Cora for his own! He had loved her madly for a little while, but all his efforts could not bring back the passion now. It was cold and dead, and his heart lay like a stone in his breast. They had decided to go South on a bridal tour, both having crossed the ocean several times, so that there would have been no novelty in the trip. Everything was in readiness for the journey as soon as the wedding reception was over. Why was it that he could look forward so indifferently to the tête-à-tête journey with the stately bride for whose sake he was bitterly envied by other men? Did a dead hand, small and white and warning--rise between him and his bride, barring out happiness? It almost seemed so. Would to God I could awaken! For I dream I know not how, And my soul is sorely shaken Lest an evil step be taken, Lest the dead who is forsaken May not be happy now. He would not listen to the haunting voices throbbing at his heart, but, putting them aside, prepared to keep his troth plight, praying yet for love to come back to its forsaken nest in his heart. Not so with beautiful Cora, who, beaming with joyous anticipations, was making ready for her bridal, smiling as the maid pinned on the bridal veil, thinking there could be no bar to her happiness now, for was not Frank waiting for her downstairs, and everything in readiness!