death. Wearily she turned her face toward his; he clasped the wasted
form tightly to his , and kissed the pale lips; her fingers
clasped his hand gently, and she whispered, "Good-by!"

"Good-by, my darling Mary!--my own angel one, good-by!"

Again he pressed his lips to hers, and then rested her head more
easily upon his arm. The eyes closed, and those who stood watching her
low, irregular breathing, fancied she slept again.

One arm was around her, while the other supported the drooping head.
Her beautiful brown hair fell over his arm, and left exposed the
colorless face. She was wasted, yet beautiful in its perfect 
and  was the expression which rested on her features. Dr. Bryant,
 his noble brow on hers, felt her  pass away in the last
sigh which escaped her lips. Yet he did not lift his head. Cold as
marble grew the white fingers which lingered in his, still he clasped
her tightly. He sat with closed eyes, communing with his own saddened
; he was stilling the  which welled up, and casting forth
the  which mingled darkly with his , and he said unto
his tortured : "Be still! my treasure is laid up in heaven."