out sometimes when the dew is falling to look at my grave and say, 'Poor
Coralie! how well she loved me--so well--so dearly!' You will do that,
Edgar?"

My tears were falling warm and fast on her face.

"Are these your tears? Then you care a little for me. Ah, then, I am
willing to die!"

And so, with her head pillowed on my arm, and a smile on her lips, she
died.

We buried her by the side of Miles Trevelyan. After life's fitful fever
she sleeps well.

From the first hour of her illness the doctor had no hope for her. I
learned afterward that for some time before the child took the fever she
had been ailing and ill.

It was such a strange life. Thinking over it afterward, it seemed to me
more like romance than reality.

A year passed before the dream of my life was fulfilled and Agatha came
to Crown Anstey. I need not to say how happy we were.

Lady Trevelyan is the most beloved and popular lady in the county; our
children are growing up good and happy; we have not a care or trouble in
the world, and the sharpest pain I have is the memory of Coralie.