She did not ask for Mr. Browning, for she knew he would not come, but she inquired anxiously each day for Rosamond; and when, at last, she heard they were together, she laid her hand upon her heart, and watching its rise and fall, smiled to think how fast her life was going out. "Listen, Maria," she said, "Listen to what they say, and hear if they talk of me." Noiselessly Maria glided to the door of Rosamond's chamber--stood there for a moment and then as noiselessly came back repeating to her mistress the substance of what she had heard, together with sundry little embellishments of her own. "He will give you Riverside and go away himself," she said, and Miss Porter quickly rejoined, "Go where? Go with whom?" "With Miss Leyton of course," returned Maria. "He said he would not live without her." "The wretch!" ejaculated the angry woman, all her softer emotions giving way to this fancied insult. "He might at least wait now until I'm dead. I'll go to him myself, and see if in my presence he dare talk thus to her." She was greatly excited, and in spite of the painful throbbings of her heart and the dizzy sensation she felt stealing over her, she stepped upon the floor, and hurriedly crossed the room. The effort was too much for her feeble strength, and she sank fainting upon a chair. The girl Maria had seen her faint before, but never before had she seen so fearful a look upon her face, and she ran in terror to Mr. Browning, beseeching him to come "for her mistress was dying sure, and would trouble nobody much more." For a moment he hesitated, but when Rosamond said, "Go," he went. Taking the fainting woman in his arms he laid her upon the bed as gently, though not as tenderly as he would have laid his Rosamond there. "Call Mrs. Peters," he said, and when that matron came, he bade her give to the invalid every possible care. Slowly Miss Porter came back to life, but it was only to faint again, and with each fainting fit it became more and more apparent that life was ebbing fast. They did not say to Rosamond that she would die, but they told it to Mr. Browning, who heard as one who hears not. Every other sensation seemed to have given place to a feeling of horror, and when at the close of the second day word came to him that she _was dying_, and had asked to see him, he arose mechanically and walked to her sick room as calmly as he had visited it the previous night, when he knew she was asleep. One glance, however, at her white face and wild bright eyes roused him to the reality, and bending over her pillow, he forced himself to take her hand in his, saying kindly, "Marie, do you know me?" "Know you? Yes," she answered. "You are my husband--my husband." She lingered upon that name as if its sound recalled to life some olden feeling--some memory of Holly Wood, where they first had met. "Marie, you are dying," he continued. "Shall we part in anger, or in peace?"