The story was plausible. Vance, however, looked the narrator sharply and searchingly in the face. She met his glance with an expression beaming with innocence and candor. It was irresistible. The strong man surrendered all suspicion, and gave in “beat.” CHAPTER XXXII. A DOUBLE VICTORY. “Whence it is manifest that the soul, speaking in a natural sense, loseth nothing by Death, but is a very considerable gainer thereby. For she does not only possess as much body as before, with as full and solid dimensions, but has that accession cast in, of having this body more invigorated with life and motion than it was formerly.”—_Henry More_, A. D. 1659. “No, sure, ’t is ever youth there! Time and Death Follow our flesh no more; and that forced opinion, That spirits have no sexes, I believe not. There _must_ be love,—there _is_ love!” _Beaumont and Fletcher._ “I shall be jealous of this little lady if you go on at this rate,” said Madame Volney to Mrs. Ratcliff, a week after Clara had been established in the house. “Never fear that I shall love you less, my dear Josephine,” replied the invalid. Then, pointing to her heart, she added: “I’ve a place here big enough for both of you. I only wish ’ were in better repair.” “Have you had those sharp throbbings to-day?” “Not badly. You warn me against excitement. I sometimes think I’m better under it. Certainly I’ve improved since Esha and Darling have been here. What should I do now without Darling to play and read to me? What a touch she has! And what a voice! And then her selection of music and of books is so good. By the way, she promised to translate a story for me from the German. I wonder if she has it finished. Go ask her.” The answer was brought by Clara herself, and Josephine left the two together. Yes, Clara had written out the story. It was called _Zu Spat_, or “Too Late,” and was by an anonymous author. Clara read aloud from it. She had read about ten minutes, when the following passage occurred:— “Selfish and superstitious, the Baroness put out of her mind the irksome thought of making her will; but now, struck speechless by disease, and paralyzed in her hands, she was impotent to communicate her wishes. Her agonized effort to say something in her last moments undoubtedly related to a will. But she died intestate, and all her large estate passed into the hands of a comparative stranger. And thus the humble friends whose kindness had saved and prolonged her life were left to struggle with the world for a meagre support. If in the new condition to which she had passed through death she could look back on her selfishness and its consequences, what poignant regrets must have been hers!” “Read that passage again,” said Mrs. Ratcliff; adding, after Clara had complied, “You needn’t read any more now.”