the wind tossed it.

"You know me now, Frank--don't you, Frank? It has been so hard to come
to see you, and so cold! But you are going to be married to-morrow,
Frank; and I promised--oh, a long time ago--to think of you when you
were going to be married wherever I was, and I have kept my promise, and
I have come from where I am and brought a present with me. It was bitter
to die so young! I was so young to die and leave you, but I had to go.
Take it--take it; be quick, I cannot stay any longer. _I could not give
you my life, Frank, so I have brought you my death--take it!_"

The figure thrust the basket into my hand, and as it did so the rain
came up again, and began to obscure the moonlight.

"I must go, I must go," went on the dreadful, familiar voice, in a cry
of despair. "Oh, why were you so long opening the door? I wanted to
talk to you before you married Annie; and now I shall never see you
again--never! never! _never!_ I have lost you for ever! ever! _ever!_"



As the last wailing notes died away the wind came down with a rush and
a whirl and the sweep as of a thousand wings, and threw me back into the
house, bringing the door to with a crash after me.

I staggered into the kitchen, the basket in my hand, and set it on the
table. Just then some embers of the fire fell in, and a faint little
flame rose and glimmered on the bright dishes on the dresser, even
revealing a tin candlestick, with a box of matches by it. I was
well-nigh mad with the darkness and fear, and, seizing the matches,