all his hopes of life upon it. I _beg_ you not to tempt me,--help me to
do right!"

"But, Mary, did you not get my letter?"

"Your letter?"

"Yes,--that long letter that I wrote you."

"I never got any letter, James."

"Strange!" he said. "No wonder it seems sudden to you!"

"Have you seen your mother?" said Mary, who was conscious this moment
only of a dizzy instinct to turn the conversation from where she felt
too weak to bear it.

"No; do you suppose I should see anybody before you?"

"Oh, then, you must go to her!" said Mary. "Oh, James, you don't know
how she has suffered!"

They were drawing near to the cottage-gate.

"Do, pray!" said Mary. "Go, hurry to your mother! Don't be too sudden,
either, for she's very weak; she is almost worn out with sorrow. Go, my
dear brother! _Dear_ you always will be to me."

James helped her into the house, and they parted. All the house was yet
still. The open kitchen-door let in a sober square of moonlight on the