"My heart went out to you then and there, as it never did to any woman. I had been fascinated and amused with your ways before that. How I have waited and hoped since then to see you turn to me with the love-light in your eyes! Fear lest I might lose my self-restraint and speak too soon, drove me from you--fear lest some other man would win what I so passionately craved has brought me back. Darling, you have made this the happiest day of my life." CHAPTER XXIX. THE END. I never saw Mrs. Le Grande again alive. The following morning I made my confession to Mr. Winthrop, and got his consent to continue my visits to the sick room, at Rose Cottage, until recovery or death should take place. My one anxiety as I walked along the field and woodland that day, was lest my face might reveal to her keen vision the gladness that thrilled all my pulses. I did not wait to ring the bell but went directly to her rooms. The parlor door was closed; when I opened it, at the farther end of the room I was startled to see a white-robed form lying on one of the sofas. I hesitated with sudden fear, but finally summoning all my resolution I crossed the room and stood beside the clay-cold form of Mrs. Le Grande. The nurse who was in the adjoining room came to my side and after a few seconds' silence she said, gently: "I never felt so lonesome with any dying person as with her last night." "Did she know she was dying?" "Yes, we told her. It seemed dreadful to let her go before her Maker without a prayer for mercy, but her thoughts, for all we told her, were more about this world than the next. She made her will as soon as the doctor came. We sent for him in haste, and then she told us what to put on her when we prepared her for the coffin. That's the gown she was to have been married in. She said: 'Mr. Winthrop shall see his bride in her wedding dress, at last.'" I looked at the rich white satin, with its exquisite trimming of lace, and the fresh gathered roses instead of orange blossoms. "Did she say nothing about where her soul was going?" I asked, yet dreading a reply. "After he'd got the will drawn, the doctor asked her if her business for another world was satisfactorily arranged; but she said the next world would have to wait its turn after she'd got there; she had no strength left to make any more preparations." I turned away, too sick at heart to listen longer, but the nurse followed me with a message from the dying woman. "It was her special request that you and Mr. Winthrop should come to her funeral, and afterward be present at the reading of the will. I am not at liberty to explain, but I think you will regret it if you do not come. She said that was to be the sign of reconciliation between her and Mr. Winthrop."