"No one. I did not know it myself."

"Her heart told her that I was here," exclaimed Mr. Florence--and,
as he spoke, he glided past the aunt, and, with hurried steps,
ascended to the chamber where the dying one lay. The eyes of Edith
were turned towards the door as he entered; but no sign of emotion
passed over her countenance. Overcome by his feelings, at the sight
of the shadowy remnant of one so loved and so wronged, the young man
sunk into a chair by her side, as nerveless as a child; and, as his
lips were pressed upon her lips and cheeks, her face was wet with
his tears.

Coming in quickly after, the aunt took firmly hold of his arm and
sought to draw him away, but, in a steady voice, the invalid said--

"No--no. I was waiting for him. I have expected him for days. I knew
he would come; and he is here now."

All was silence for many minutes; and during this time Edwin
Florence sat with his face covered, struggling to command his
feelings. At a motion from the dying girl, the aunt and friend
retired, and she was alone with the lover who had been false to his
vows. As the door closed behind them, Edwin looked up. He had grown
calm. With a voice of inexpressible tenderness, he said--

"Live for me, Edith."

"Not here," was answered. "The silver chord will soon be loosened
and the golden bowl broken."