die, too. I like him, Miss Frances, better than anyone I ever saw; like
him now as well as I ever did, but I do not want to be his wife, nor
anybody's wife, and that is just the truth. I am sorry he ever saw me
and loved me so well. Tell him that, Fanny."

It was Fanny again and she grasped my hand nervously, for the train was
upon us.

"Promise me solemnly that if you think he is surely going to die you
will let me know in time to see him once more. Promise--quick--and kiss
me as a pledge."

The train had stopped. There was not a moment to lose, and I promised,
and kissed the red lips in the darkness, and felt a remorseful pang when
I saw the little figure go alone into the car which bore her swiftly
away, while I turned my steps homeward with only Leo for my companion.

I had to tell Julia about it, and I gathered up the four scraps of paper
from the floor where Daisy had thrown them, and, joining them together,
saw they really were the marriage settlement, and kept them for Guy,
should he ever be able to hear about it and know what it meant. There
was a telegram for me the next evening, dated at Detroit, and bearing
simply the words, "Arrived safely," and that was all I heard of Daisy.
No one in town knew of her having been here but Julia and myself, and it
was better that they should not, for Guy's life hung on a thread, and
for many days and nights I trembled lest that promise, sealed by a kiss,
would have to be redeemed.

That was three weeks ago, and Guy is better now and knows us all, and
to-day, for the first time, I have a strong hope that I am not to be