A look of resolute endurance came into the pathetic young face. "No," she said, "I will tell you myself. They said I could break it to you more gently. Perhaps I may help you to bear it. Oh, my darling, do not look at me so hard! I would have died rather than this should have happened." The sight of her anguish almost maddened Ronald Valchester. "Lina, I cannot bear this suspense any longer," he cried. "Tell me why you will not marry me?" She came nearer; she took both his hands and held them in her own; she looked at him with brave, patient eyes. "Oh, Ronald, my best beloved," she said, trying to speak calmly and bravely, "you must remember while I am telling you that it will not be for long. The obstacle shall be removed--Uncle Charlie has promised me _that_. But I cannot be your wife now, because--oh, Ronald, because--against my own will--I am already--married to another." A terrible pause! The blue-gray eyes, looking up into the tear-wet black ones, grew dark with intense emotion; the handsome face grew corpse-like in its awful pallor. "Lina!" he gasped, then words failed him. "Yes, Ronald," she said, "last night that man had a priest in his awful cave. He read the ceremony of marriage over Gerald Huntington and myself; he pronounced us man and wife. But, Ronald, Uncle Charlie will get a divorce for me, and I will marry you as soon as I am free. Ronald----" She stopped in terror. He had turned suddenly upon his side, and after a low, gasping sound in his throat, and one quiver of the limbs, lay still, with the bluish pallor of death on his face. She laid her hand on his heart, but there was no movement. "Ronald is dead!" she cried, and her wail of anguish re-echoed through the house. CHAPTER XXIV. Jaquelina's wail of anguish penetrated to every ear in the house. Those who had sent her alone to break the terrible news to Ronald, came hurrying in now, and found her weeping and wringing her hands, and wildly calling on Ronald to speak to her once more. "Ronald is dead!" she cried to them. "I tried to tell him gently, but he could not bear it. It has killed him--oh, my darling, my darling!" Walter Earle hurried to the bedside, while the shrieks of the women filled the room. He pushed Jaquelina gently aside, and bent over the still form of his friend. He laid his hand on the quiet heart. "Do not tell me that he is dead--my only child, my precious Ronald!" cried the frightened mother. Walter was silent. He felt the cold hands, the still heart over and over again. At last he turned to his mother, who stood weeping by his side. "I cannot believe he is dead," he said. "I can feel no pulse, and no beat of the heart. Yet it is possible that he is only prostrated by the suddenness of the shock. He may possibly revive. Send for the doctor immediately."