"Fulvie, you would have it!" he said gently. "But you were wrong to ask me. It was not needed. The love for Ethel is such an old love, it cannot die in a day—cannot change, I mean, into—But indeed I have not thought of Ethel in that light lately, only as—We should have become friends—no more! I believe that one can conquer—may conquer! I would have fought it out, God helping me." Fulvia held out her hand, and Nigel grasped it, repeating, "Why did you insist? It was cruel to yourself and me. I think you ought to know how dear you are to—even though—Why could you not let things alone? I would have conquered!" "And all the time you and Ethel breaking your hearts for one another," Fulvia struggled to say. "No—if it was right—and indeed I would have given you no cause—" "Oh no! You have been so good to me always!" "I will be again. Cannot we forget all this?" Fulvia mastered her voice, and even forced a smile. "Yes," she said; "we will forget it all—the whole, from first to last. You shall be good to me still, only not so! We are brother and sister again, and you are free. I know I am right. It will be right for us both,—for all of us. By-and-by we shall be thankful that things did not go too far. I shall find some work in life worth doing. It is best so—indeed it is. Why must you look unhappy? I will try to be a good sister to you—both." "You make me feel how grievously I have failed." "No; it is not failure. It is only—I think we can say more another day. I am not—so very strong yet." Fulvia knew that she could bear no more. "Will you please tell madre and the girls—tell them it is my doing? I am going upstairs now, for a little rest. Nobody need come." She gave him a farewell glance, and passed away, before he could detain her. Once locked in her own room, the knowledge of what she had done overcame her utterly. But by the time Mrs. Browning begged for entrance, she was herself again. "Fulvia, my dear, what is this? What does this mean?" Mrs. Browning asked in great distress. Fulvia threw her arms round the gentle woman, hiding her blistered face. "It only means, dear madre, that I am your own child again—Nigel's sister! We needn't talk much about it, need we? Only please help me to be good and brave. I know I am right, and you know it too! We must think of—Nigel's happiness—must we not? Mother, help me to be brave!" sobbed Fulvia. CHAPTER XXXI NIGEL'S LOVE "Then He gave her peace,— Because her heart had learned to rest on Him— His perfect peace . . . . . . And so it was that she Who looked on life and death with hate and fear, Saw in her life a happy pilgrimage On toward a better country, which she sought With longing." —S. J. STONE. ETHEL was lying on the couch in the Rectory dining-room. She could not sit up for any length of time. There was nothing radically wrong, Dr. Duncan said; but he did not like this persistent weakness. She seemed to have no rallying power.