He had sold her, then. He had preferred worldly prosperity to her love, and she had been deceived in him as hundreds of others were every day deceived by those in whom they trusted. But one document she held to still--the one in her desk, the little desk that stood by her bed's head, and that letter she had read night after night, and wept over when there was none to see, till the blistering tears had all but obliterated the words on the paper. But no tears could wash them out from her heart, where they were burned in by anguish--those few cold formal words dictated by her father--that he, Frank Marr, feeling it to be his duty, then and there released her from all promises, and retained to himself the right without prejudice to enter into any new engagement. She had been asked to indite a few lines herself, setting him free on her part, but she could not do it; and now, after the first month of agony, she was striving hard to prepare herself for what she felt to be her fate. But all seemed in vain, and one day, almost beside herself with the long strain, Keziah found her pacing the room and wringing her thin hands. "You sha'n't marry him, and that's an end of it!" cried Keziah fiercely. "I'll go over and see him to-night and talk to him; and if I can't win him round my name isn't Bay. I'll marry him myself if it can't be done any other how, that I will. Cheer up, then, my darling. Don't cry, please, it almost breaks my heart to see you. He's a good old fellow, that he is; and I'm sure when he comes to know how you dread it all he'll give it up. If I only had that Mr Frank--What? Don't, my little one? Then I won't; only it does seems so hard. Married on the shortest day, indeed! I daresay he'd like to be. There's no day so short nor so long ever been made that shall see you Tom Brough's wife, so I tell him. Now, only promise me that you'll hold up." "Don't talk to me, please. I shall be better soon," sobbed May; and then after an interval of weeping, "'Ziah, I know you love me: when I'm dead, will you think gently of me, and try to forgive all my little pettish ways?" "When you're what?" cried Keziah. "When I'm dead; for I feel that it can't be long first. I used to smile about broken hearts and sorrow of that kind, but, except when I'm asleep and some bright dream comes, all seems here so black and gloomy that I could almost feel glad to sleep always--always, never to wake again."