"Mother! mother!" repeated the young man, pausing on each word, as if to drink in its hidden music. "It is very strange, but ever since I first saw you that word has been constantly whispered in my heart. I never thought of it before, save as a sound full of regrets. To me, an orphan from the first, it had no other meaning." "But now--now you love it?" "Yes; now it has depth and significance. A tender significance, which makes my heart swell, and fills my eyes with tears. Lady, I am glad the word escaped me, since it does not wound or offend you, for it has unlocked my heart. I could rest your head on my bosom thus, and weep my life away with yours." "Oh!" exclaimed Barbara, "if God would be merciful, and let us die so." "Or permit you to live. How beautiful existence would be for us all!" Instantly, the holy tenderness that had trembled on Barbara's features went out from her face. Her head rested like marble on the young man's shoulders. The thought of what must happen to-morrow broke through her exaltation, and froze her into ice. "Go," she said, in a husky whisper. "Go! your wife is waiting. Take her out of this place--from the town itself. You must not be near me when the time comes. I shall be better alone." "Not near you!" exclaimed the young man. "Though my heart break--and I feel that it must--you shall not drive me from your side." "But it will take away my strength. I shall falter at the last moment. Boy, can you not see how weak I am?" Her voice broke out of its husky whispers; she shivered from head to foot, and held out her shaking hands that he might clasp them. Norman folded her close in his arms till the trembling subsided. Then she was firm again, but cold as stone. "Go, now," she said. "Here we part forever. To-morrow, if I am to perish as a Christian woman, with the example of our blessed Saviour before me, I must meet the agonies of death alone. With you standing near me, my friend, it would be to die twice. Nay, take your arms from around me. I am stronger standing alone. But--but your hand still; let me hold that to the last." "Oh, that it had the power to lead you from this horrible place!" "Hush! hush! we must not think of that. Farewell! farewell!" The last words were spoken on whispers, that came like a breath of frosted air from her lips. "Farewell!" cried the young man, wringing her cold hand. "My God! my God! this is indeed like parting with a mother." Norman moved toward the door, and struck its oaken planks blindly with his hand, thus summoning the turnkey. Barbara followed him a single step, her blue eyes strained with anguish, her lips moving like snow stirred by the wind. A key turned in its lock; a heavy bolt was drawn. The door slowly opened. Then her voice broke out in a sharp cry. "Norman!" The young man turned and received her in his arms. She laid her hand faintly on his shoulder again. "My--my friend, kiss me before I die."