“I must go. I must see you to the very last.” “Be it so,” said Beatrice, in a solemn voice, “since it is the very last.” Suddenly she looked at him with the solemn gaze of one whose soul was filled with thoughts that overpowered every common feeling. It was a glance lofty and serene and unimpassioned, like that of some spirit which has passed beyond human cares, but sad as that of some prophet of woe. “Louis Brandon!” At this mention of his name a flash of unspeakable surprise passed over Brandon’s face. She held out her hand. “Take my hand,” said she, calmly, “and hold it so that I may have strength to speak.” “Louis Brandon!” said she, “there was a time on that African island when you lay under the trees and I was sure that you were dead. There was no beating to your heart, and no perceptible breath. The last test failed, the last hope left me, and I knelt by your head, and took you in my arms, and wept in my despair. At your feet Cato knelt and mourned in his Hindu fashion. Then mechanically and hopelessly he made a last trial to see if you were really dead, so that he might prepare your grave. He put his hand under your clothes against your heart. He held it there for a long time. Your heart gave no answer. He withdrew it, and in doing so took something away that was suspended about your neck. This was a metallic case and a package wrapped in oiled silk. He gave them to me.” Beatrice had spoken with a sad, measured tone--such a tone as one sometimes uses in prayer--a passionless monotone, without agitation and without shame. Brandon answered not a word. “Take my hand,” she said, “or I can not go through. This only can give me strength.” He clasped it tightly in both of his. She drew a long breath, and continued: “I thought you dead, and knew the full measure of despair. Now, when these were given me, I wished to know the secret of the man who had twice rescued me from death, and finally laid down his life for my sake. I did it not through curiosity. I did it,” and her voice rose slightly, with solemn emphasis--“I did it through a holy feeling that, since my life was due to you, therefore, as yours was gone, mine should replace it, and be devoted to the purpose which you had undertaken. “I opened first the metallic case. It was under the dim shade of the African forest, and while holding on my knees the head of the man who had laid down his life for me. You know what I read there. I read of a father’s love and agony. I read there the name of the one who had driven him to death. The shadows of the forest grew darker around me; as the full meaning of that revelation came over my soul they deepened into blackness, and I fell senseless by your side. [Illustration: “I THOUGHT YOU DEAD, AND KNEW THE FULL MEASURE OF DESPAIR.”]