I bent over her and kissed her.

She opened her eyes, and said, in a weary voice: "Is it you, Jack ?" "Yes, my darling," said I."I am going.

I must go or die; and whether I go or die, I must be alone." She was strangely quiet--even apathetic.

As I knelt down by her she raised herself, and took my face between her hands and kissed me--not passionately, but tenderly.
"My poor Jack!" she said; "it was no use, dear.

It is no use to fight against him." Here was her strange subjection to that influence again.
"You love me ?" I cried, in my pain.
"Yes," she said, "but I am very tired; and he will be good to me." Without another word I went from her, with the bitter knowledge that my great grief found but a pale reflection in her heart.
"I am ready to go," I said to the President.
"Come, then," he replied.