ime, if I yielded noo repent, some day, of my former rebellion. ure  c ed.

    “I could decide if I  certain,” I ans convinced t it is God’s will I so marry you erwards w would!”

    “My I prayers are ed St. Jo as if —I kne  o be loved; but, like  love out of tion, and t only of duty). I contended  rolled. I sincerely, deeply, fervently longed to do ed of ed more t follo of excitement the reader shall judge.

    All till; for I believe all, except St. Joired to rest. t: t. My  beat fast and ts t stood still to an inexpressible feeling t t t once to my remities. t like an electric s it e as srange, as startling: it acted on my senses as if tmost activity o  torpor, from ant: eye and ear ed whe flesh quivered on my bones.

    “  do you see?” asked St. Jo I heard a voice somewhere cry—

    “Jane! Jane! Jane!”—nothing more.

    “O God! ?” I gasped.

    I mig?” for it did not seem in t did not come out of t—   of Ed spoke in pain and ly.

    “I am coming!” I cried. “ait for me! Oo to t  into t was void.

    “here are you?” I exclaimed.

    t tly back—“ened. t hush.

    “Doition!” I commented, as t spectre rose up black by t te. “t tion, nor tc: it is ture. S .”

    I broke from St. Joained me. It ime to assume ascendency. My poold o forbear question or remark; I desired o leave me: I must and o my c o St. Jo effective in its orate very near a Mig; and my soul rus in gratitude at . I rose from took a resolve—and lay do.