"What do you think?" he asked,
suddenly turning to her.

"That it is all very common," she said,
clearly and distinctly; " that for aught we
know, cases like that may be going on
around us; that impossible as it would be,
the girl who loved him might think he
retained good through it all."

Belle, though she spoke clearly, did not
raise her voice, and I do not know that her
words reached any but Curzon and me.

Eunice's engagement was now an
acknowledged thing. It came to be
understood that when we all drove and rode
out together, she and Jack should linger, or
be always a little in advance. Eunice was
kind-hearted, and too fond of her sister to
like to take it for granted that she should
never ride with them, and was continually
calling her, so that poor Belle was always
liable to catch some word that told her the
never-ending subject of their talk. Thus,
it was in one of these long Devonshire rides
by the sea, that Eunice's happiness came to
an end.

Our hostess and I were driving, but the
riders were holding in their horses to walk,
and so we kept all pretty well together.

Eunice had been more than usually
happy, letting her words fall gaily on the
still air, and on one suffocating heart.
There was a tightening round Belle's
heart, sobs rose in her throat, and a
mist was before her eyes, as she rode
rapidly on; on, on, away from their happy,
heartless words. Her pretty figure no
longer held straight up, her dark proud
eyes, proud no more, but glittering and
shining with tears, and the reins hanging
loosely in her hands. There were great
stones along the road, and Belle sat her
horse so listlessly, that, unchecked by any
restraining hand, he had already made
several sharp swerving movements, that
had each time nearly unseated her, without
in the least awakening her from her
dream. I called Curzon's attention to this,
and he followed her instantly, his face set,
and rigid with a fear that was not groundless.
So completely had Belle lost consciousness
of time and place, that, what we
were fearing came actually to pass.

In an instant, before he could reach her,
there was a cry of " Jack!" The horse had
thrown her, and before she could rise, his
hoof had struck her as she lay.

I can hear Eunice's shriek as her sister
fell. I can feel again the faintness of that
moment. The world seemed breaking into
stars around me; I could scarcely see. She
was not dead. I heard them saying it, with
their voices sounding far off.

Ah! Belle, Belle, I could almost have
wished that you were! Her arm was broken
in the fall, and the horse, striking her, had
done her some internal injury that made
her recovery hopeless.

At such a time, outward sensations are
not to be relied on. , I doubt my senses,
else I should think that Jack, bending over
the white face, had kissed it, and cried:

"My first darling; my one love!"

If it were so, the words struck on my ear,
and penetrated to my memory, without their
sense entering my mind. Everything but
fear seemed crushed out of me, even sorrow.
I seemed to know nothing till Belle opened
her eyes, and looked at us.

Then the flow of feeling returned, and I
knew we had all lost something.

I took Belle into my own room, for she
was frightened she said, when she woke at
night, to find only the strange nurse watching
her, and Eunice would get so hysterically
excited, that at last she was forbidden
to enter the room.

Down to the end, Belle's old dreams and
visions kept her company. It was dreadful
to hear her, for in her delirium, everything
that she saw seemed to be broken.

"Oh!" she would say, " the room is full
of broken, white wings. What shall I do?"

The old jealousy of Eunice and Jack
haunted her like a half-forgotten thought.

She would begin to call to her sister, and
then break off, while her eyes grew imploring
and dark. One string of words I had never
heard before; she said them over
and over again:

"I did not know it was in me to love any
one as I do you, Belle."

This passed. The fever wore itself out,
and Belle woke cool and sensible, and made
me call for Eunice.

Poor Eunice! When she came, she got
up on the bed, and hid her face, that Belle
might not see her eyes.

"Don't go, Mrs. F.," said Belle; "stay
and listen. I have a story to tell you,
Eunice. Will you hear it?" Eunice
signified assent, without lifting her face.

"Hold me higher," said Belle; " I must
see the waves. I don't suppose I could tell
this story without them."

It was a rough sea, and there was a
strong undercurrent that sent all the waves
westward.

"It is a love-story," said Belle, " and so
it will interest you, Eunice."