above and beyond these seems to tell me that our parting to-day is for evil: there is sorrow in the air, there is dread in the rustling leaves, a keening of mortal anguish in the sobbing wind, a dark shadow passing like a doom betwixt my lover and me.
"My sweetheart," he says, "how pale you are! I should not have let you come out in this cold———"
"Only you promised," I say, buttoning his coat closer about his throat with trembling fingers. "You will come back, Paul: you are sure you will come back?"
"Come back to my pearl, my darling? Aye, that I will! You are not yourself," he says, looking into my face; "you are ill, suffering; I cannot leave you like this, dear, I shall take you back to the house."
"No, no," I say, faintly; "but you are quite sure that you must go?"
"Quite sure, little one; if it had been possible to get out of it, you may be sure I should have done so. But it is such a little while, you will scarcely have realized that I am gone before I shall be back, and then, Nell———"
"We shall be very happy if you come back," I say, dreamily. "Take care of yourself, Paul; do not forget that any harm to you passes straight through me, and that every hour you are away I shall be wearying for you. Do not let any one put me out of your head; do not forget me."
"Forget thee!" he cries, kissing my pale lips again and again; "who could forget thee? not Paul. Write to me twice or thrice, darling, it will pass the time more quickly to you, and I will write too, but I never was a good scribe, pet, so you must not expect much. Of course I shall scrawl you a line from Marseilles."
"Ten days!" I say to myself, as he smoothes the hair back from my forehead with his brown hand. "Only ten days!" what could
