And so days went by and night succeeded night, until the bright May morning dawned, the last Rose could ever see.

Slowly up the eastern horizon came the warm spring sun, and as its red beams danced for a time upon the wall of Rose's chamber, she gazed wistfully upon it, murmuring, "It is the last,--the last that will ever rise for me." William Bender was there.

He had come the night before, bringing word that Henry would follow the next day.

There was a gay party to which he had promised to attend Miss Herndon, and he deemed that a sufficient reason why he should neglect his dying sister, who every few minutes asked eagerly if he had come.

Strong was the agony at work in the father's heart, and still he nerved himself to support his daughter while he watched the shadows of death as one by one they crept over her face.