The Three Brides

you censure and keep from all he likes-if you will be a recluse and not a woman- he-don't be offended, Anne; but if you leave him to himself, then will every effort be made to turn him from you. You don't believe me.'

'My dear Raymond, don't speak so eagerly,' as his cheeks flushed.

'I must! I can't see his happiness and yours wrecked like mine. Go with him, Anne. Don't leave him to be poisoned. Mesmerism has its power over whoever has been under the spell. And he has-he has! She will try to turn him against you and mother.'

'Hush, Raymond! Indeed I will be on my guard. There's no one there. What are you looking at?'

'Camilla!' he said, with eyes evidently seeing something. 'Camilla! Is it not enough to have destroyed one peace?'

'Raymond, indeed there is no one here.'

But he had half raised himself. 'Yes, Camilla, you have had your revenge. Let it be enough. No-no; I forgive you; but I forbid you to touch her.'

He grasped Anne's arm with one hand, and stretched the other out as though to warn some one away. The same moment there was another outburst of the bleeding. Anne rang for help with one hand, and held him as best she could. It lasted long; and when it was over he was manifestly dying. 'It is coming,' he said; looking up to Julius. 'Pray! Only first-my love to Cecil. I hope she is still young enough not to have had all her life spoilt. Is her father coming?'

'To-morrow,' said Anne.

'That's well. Poor child! she is better free.'

How piteously sad those words of one wedded but a year! How unlike the look that met his mother's woeful yet tender eyes, as she held his hand. She would aid him through that last passage as through all before, only a word of strong and tender love, as he again looked up to Julius and Anne, as if to put her in their keeping, and once more murmured something of 'Love to sweet Rose! Now, Julius, pray!'

An ever dutiful man, there was no wandering in look or tone. He breathed 'Amen' once or twice, but never moved again, only his eyes still turned on his mother, and so in its time came the end.

Old Susan saw at first that the long fluttering gasp had no successor, and her touch certified Julius. He rose and went towards his mother. She held out her hands and said. 'Take me to my Frank.'

'We had better,' whispered Anne.

They wheeled her to the foot of the stairs. Julius took her in his arms, Anne held her feet, and thus they carried her up the stairs, and along the passage, hearing Frank's husky rapid babble all the way, and finding him struggling with the fierce strength of delirium against Jenkins, who looked as if he thought them equally senseless, when he saw his helpless mistress carried in.

'Frank, my boy, do lie still,' she said, and he took no notice; but when she laid her hand on his, he turned, looked at her with his dull eyes, and muttered, 'Mother!'

It was the first recognition for many a day! and, at the smoothing motion of her hand over him, while she still entreated, 'Lie still, my dear,' the mutterings died away; the childish instinct of obedience stilled the struggles; and there was something more like repose than had been seen all these weary months.

'Mother,' said Julius, 'you can do for us what no one else can. You will save him.'

She looked up to him, and hope took away the blank misery he had dreaded to see. 'My poor Frankie,' she said dreamily, 'he has wanted me, I will not leave him now.'

All was soon still; Frank's face had something like rest on it, as he lay with his mother's hand on his brow, and she intent only on him.

'You can leave them to me, I think,' said Anne. 'I will send if there be need; but if not, you had better not come up till you have been to Wil'sbro'-if you must go.'

'I must, I fear; I promised to come to Fuller if he be still here. I will speak to Jenkins first.'

Julius was living like a soldier in a campaign, with numbers dropping beside him, and no time to mourn, scarcely to realize the loss, and he went on, almost as if he had been a stranger; while the grief of poor old Jenkins was uncontrollable, both for his lady's sake and for the young master, who had been his pride and glory. His sobs brought out Mrs. Grindstone into the gallery, to insist, with some asperity, that there should be no noise to awaken her mistress, who was in a sweet sleep.

'We will take care,' said Julius, sadly. 'I suppose she had better hear nothing till Mr. Charnock comes.'

'She must be left to me, sir, or I cannot be answerable for the consequences,' was the stiff reply, wherewith Mrs. Grindstone retreated into her castle.

Julius left the hushed and veiled house, in the frosty chill of the late autumn just before dawn, shivering between grief and cold, and he walked quickly down the avenue, feeling it strange that the windows in the face of his own house were glittering back the reflection of the setting moon.

Something long and black came from the opposite direction. 'Rector,' it said, in a low hoarse voice, 'I've got leave from him to use what he said to you. Sister Margaret and I signed it. Will that do?'

'I can't tell now, Herbert, I can't think. My brother is just gone,' said Julius in his inward voice.

'Raymond! No! Oh, I beg your pardon; I never thought of that; Raymond-'

'Go home and go to bed,' said Julius, as the young man wrung his hand. 'Rest now-we must think another time.'

Did Rosamond know? was perhaps the foremost of his weary thoughts. Ah! did she not! Was she not standing with her crimson shawl round her, and the long black plaits falling on it, to beckon him to the firelit comfort of his own room? Did she not fall on his neck as he came heavily up, and cling around him with her warm arms? 'Oh, Julius, what a dear brother he was! What can we do for your mother?'

As he told her how Frank's need did more than any support could do for her, her tears came thicker; but in spite of them, her fond hands put him into the easy-chair by the fire, and drew off his damp boots; and while listening to the low sunken voice that told her of the end, she made ready the cup of cocoa that was waiting, and put the spoon in his hand in a caressing manner, that made her care, comfort, not oppression. Fatigue seconded her, for he took the warm food, faltered and leant back, dozing till the baby's voice awoke him, and as he saw Rosamond hushing her, he exclaimed:

'O, Rose! if poor Raymond had ever known one hour like this!' and he held out his arms for his child.

'You know I don't let you hold her in that coat. Go into your dressing-room, have your bath, and put on your dressing-gown, and if you will lie on the bed, you shall take care of her while I go and feed Terry. You can't do anything for anybody yet, it is only six o'clock.'

These precautions, hindering his going jaded and exhausted into infection, were what Rosamond seemed to live for, though she never forced them on him, and he was far too physically tired out not to yield to the soothing effect; so that even two hours on the bed sent him forth renovated to that brief service in the church, where Herbert and he daily met and found their strength for the day. They had not had time to exchange a word after it before there was a knock at the vestry door, and a servant gave the message to Herbert, who had opened it: 'Lady Tyrrell is taken worse, sir, and Sir Harry Vivian begged that Mr. Charnock would come immediately.'

A carriage had been sent for him, and he could only hurry home to tell Rosamond to send on the pony to Sirenwood, to take him to Wil'sbro', unless he were first wanted at home. She undertook to go up to the Hall and give Anne a little rest, and he threw himself into the carriage, not daring to dwell on the pain it gave him to go from his brother's death bed to confront Camilla.

At the door Eleonora came to meet him. 'Thank you,' she said. 'We knew it was no time to disturb you.'

'I can be better spared now,' answered Julius.

'You don't mean,' she said, with a strange look, which was not quite surprise.

'Yes, my dear brother left us at about three o'clock last night. A change came on at twelve.'

'Twelve!' Eleonora laid her hand on his arm, and spoke in a quick agitated manner. 'Camilla was much better till last night, when at twelve I heard such a scream that I ran into her room. She was sitting up with her eyes fixed open, like a clairvoyante, and her voice seemed pleading-pleading with him, as if for pardon, and she held out her hands and called him. Then, suddenly, she gave a terrible shriek, and fell back in a kind of fit. Mr. M'Vie can do nothing, and though she is conscious now, she does nothing but ask for you and say that he does not want you now.'

Julius grew paler, as he said very low, 'Anne said he seemed to be seeing and answering her. Not like delirium, but as if she were really there.'

'Don't tell any one,' entreated Eleonora, in a breathless whisper, and he signed consent, as both felt how