"'To such base uses must we come at last,'" he quoted, with a sigh. "Yes," said I, "rather a come-down from a king; but, never mind what it is, as long as it pays well." I saw him wince at this speech of mine; his romantic nature revolted against all thoughts of making money, however pressing his needs might be. We parted, and I called upon him about a week after, when I found he was making grand preparations for his marriage. He informed me that he had got his eye upon some appointment, but that he should have to wait. There was a certain air of sadness about his face still. He did not look like a man about to be married. "Doctor," said he, "do you know what I have been thinking of late?" "No," I replied. "I have been thinking that this marriage of mine will never come off," he said. "Why?" I asked. "Have you had some lovers' quarrel?" "No," he replied. "Why, then? Has the squire changed his mind, after having given his consent?" I demanded. "No; nor that either," he replied. "I cannot myself give you my reason for the fancy--it is a presentiment. You know, 'the course of true love never _did_ run smooth.'" "Oh!" said I, soothingly, "that is your fancy; you are nervous and impatient--it is natural." "No, no!" he said; "I am sure of it--I feel it." "What! Have you been dreaming that it would not?" "No; I never dream now," he replied. "I am glad to hear it," I observed; "it is a good sign. When does the wedding take place?" "To-morrow was the day appointed, but it won't take place, I say. Mark my word." "So soon! But what can have put it into your head that it will not take place to-morrow? Do you know of any impediment likely to occur between this and then?" "No," he replied; "none for certain, but I tell you, once for all, it will not take place." I did not know exactly what to make of this strange monomania. My suspicions were again aroused as to the brain being affected. I did not see what could happen to hinder the marriage, so I left him, after cheering him as much as I possibly could, determining within myself to call upon him as soon after his marriage as was convenient, to triumph over him and laugh at his presentiments; but this was the last time I ever saw Charles. Shortly after this, my last, visit I was glancing rapidly over the paper at breakfast when I was shocked to see among the list of deaths the name of Charles ----, aged twenty-four. Strange enough; I had been dreaming of him much the night previous. What was my surprise and dismay when, looking lower down the column, I saw also the death of Edith L----. I looked at the date of both deaths. To my still further surprise, both lovers had departed this life at exactly the same hour--at midnight, October 12th, 17--. "What a strange coincidence," I thought. "What strange beings both of them were! They did not appear either to belong to or to be fitted for this world. They were evidently never destined for an earthly lot together."