"In peace, if you will," she answered. "I have had my revenge--but it is _not_ sweet as some say it is. I would rather, Ralph, that I had never known you, for then I should not have been the wicked wretch I am." Mr. Browning did not reply to this, and for a few moments there was silence, during which she seemed to sleep. Rousing up ere long, she gasped for breath, and grasping nervously her husband's hand, she whispered, "I am going now--there's no sham this time--five minutes more, and you are free to marry Rosamond. Be kind to her, Ralph. Deal with her not as you dealt with me, and--and--come closer to me, Ralph. Let me whisper this last so as no one can hear." He bent him down to listen, and summoning all her strength, she said, not in a whisper, but in tones which echoed through the silent room-- "NEVER, NEVER STRIKE ROSAMOND, WILL YOU?" ................................................. Rapidly the story circulated that the strange woman who lay dead at Riverside had been Ralph Browning's wife, and hundreds flocked to the funeral, hoping to gain a view of the deceased. But in this they were disappointed, for there was nothing visible, save the handsome coffin, on whose silver plate was inscribed the word "MARIE." Some said that "Browning" might have been added to the name, and while others marvelled that the husband wore no badge of mourning, a few said wisely that the _mourning_ was visible in other than the usual signs--in the hair gray before its time, and in the deep-cut lines which a _living_ sorrow alone had made. And so, amid surmises of the past and foretellings of the future, the ill-fated Marie was laid in the village vault, until word could be received from her old uncle, who might wish to have her rest among the balmy groves and fragrant flowers of her beautiful Florida home. And now our story winds to its close. Ralph Browning was free indeed, but death had been at Riverside, and the shadow it had left must disappear ere he took to himself a second bride. Rosamond, too, must recover from the blow which had fallen so crushingly on her--must learn to confide again in the man she loved--to think of the great wrong he had done her as the result of an early, boyish error, which he regretted even more bitterly than herself.