revealing to her his great secret and purpose of gaining immortal life,
have said: "This shall be thine, too. Thou shalt share with me. We will
walk along the endless path together, and keep one another's hearts warm,
and so be content to live."

Ah, Septimius! but now you are getting beyond those rules of yours, which,
cold as they are, have been drawn out of a subtle philosophy, and might,
were it possible to follow them out, suffice to do all that you ask of
them; but if you break them, you do it at the peril of your earthly
immortality. Each warmer and quicker throb of the heart wears away so much
of life. The passions, the affections, are a wine not to be indulged in.
Love, above all, being in its essence an immortal thing, cannot be long
contained in an earthly body, but would wear it out with its own secret
power, softly invigorating as it seems. You must be cold, therefore,
Septimius; you must not even earnestly and passionately desire this
immortality that seems so necessary to you. Else the very wish will
prevent the possibility of its fulfilment.

By and by, to call him out of these rhapsodies, came Rose home; and finding
the kitchen hearth cold, and Aunt Keziah missing, and no dinner by the
fire, which was smouldering,--nothing but the portentous earthen jug,
which fumed, and sent out long, ill-flavored sighs, she tapped at
Septimius's door, and asked him what was the matter.

"Aunt Keziah has had an ill turn," said Septimius, "and has gone to bed."

"Poor auntie!" said Rose, with her quick sympathy. "I will this moment run
up and see if she needs anything."

"No, Rose," said Septimius, "she has doubtless gone to sleep, and will