He comprehended that the end was near, for, between the paroxysms of pain, he whispered to Pansy: “You have made this past year very happy, my darling. I have never had cause to believe that you cherished a single regret.” CHAPTER XLIII. A LOVELY WIDOW. “I suppose you will go home now and marry Norman Wylde!” cried Juliette spitefully. It was almost immediately after the funeral, and the sad young widow turned a shocked face upon the heartless speaker. “Juliette, how can you be so cruel? Do you think I do not grieve for my noble husband?” she exclaimed. “Norman Wylde could comfort you very easily in your grief,” was the unfeeling reply that sent Pansy from the room in bitter tears. Juliette was the trial of Pansy’s daily life. She had tried all in vain to overcome the girl’s jealous dislike of her, but it seemed a hopeless task, and she longed for the time to come when she would marry and leave her in peace. “I believe she would murder me if she thought she could do so without being discovered,” she thought sometimes fearfully. She did not dream that her patient endurance of her dreadful incubus and her never-failing goodness had all along been having their effect on Juliette, although she struggled bitterly against that saving influence. Just now she felt more bitter than usual, for, in addition to the fact that she believed that Pansy and Norman would be reunited in a few weeks, she had found out that her uncle’s will was made solely in his wife’s favor, with the exception of a legacy to his niece, the amount of which was to be decided by Pansy. The next time Juliette saw Pansy she began to tease her about the will. “It was a shame for uncle to treat me so shabbily. He might have known you would put me off with just a few hundreds!” she cried spitefully. Pansy sighed at Juliette’s unrelenting hate, and answered patiently: “Colonel Falconer understood me better than you do, Juliette, or he would never have trusted your future to me. When his affairs are settled there will not be more than a hundred thousand dollars left, as he made several investments lately that resulted disastrously. But of that hundred thousand I shall give you fifty thousand.” “You do not mean it!” Juliette cried incredulously. “Yes,” Pansy answered; and for a minute there was a silence, which the young widow broke in a tremulous, pleading voice. “Perhaps,” she said, “when this money is settled on you, Juliette, it will please you best to leave me, and make a home for yourself elsewhere?” “You want me to go away--you are tired of me!” Juliette cried, in a high, resentful key; and then Pansy lifted her head and looked at her with those sad pansy-blue eyes, in which tears of grief were standing thickly. “Oh, Juliette,” she sobbed, “I--I--only want peace, and you make my life so dreary and unhappy with your unrelenting hate!” Juliette did not answer. She gave a choking gasp and rushed from the room.