I fell upon my knees beside her bed; All agonies within my heart were wed, While to the aching numbness of my grief, Mine eyes refused the solace of a tear,— The tortured soul’s most merciful relief. Her wasted hand caressed my bended head For one sad, sacred moment. Then she said, In that low tone so like the wind’s refrain, “Maurine, my own! give not away to pain; The time is precious. Ere another dawn My soul may hear the summons and pass on. Arise, sweet sister! rest a little while, And when refreshed, come hither. I grow weak With every hour that passes. I must speak And make my dying wishes known to-night. Go now.” And in the halo of her smile, Which seemed to fill the room with golden light, I turned and left her.
Later, in the gloom Of coming night, I entered that dim room, And sat down by her. Vivian held her hand: And on the pillow at her side there smiled The beauteous count’nance of a sleeping child.
“Maurine,” spoke Helen, “for three blissful years, My heart has dwelt in an enchanted land; And I have drank the sweetened cup of joy, Without one drop of anguish or alloy. And so, ere Pain embitters it with gall, Or sad-eyed Sorrow fills it full of tears, And bids me quaff, which is the Fate of all Who linger long upon this troubled way, God takes me to the realm of Endless Day, To mingle with His angels, who alone Can understand such bliss as I have known. I do not murmur. God has heaped my measure, In three short years, full to the brim with pleasure; And, from the fulness of an earthly love, I pass to th’ Immortal Arms above, Before I even brush the skirts of Woe.
“I leave my aged parents here below, With none to comfort them. Maurine, sweet friend! Be kind to them, and love them to the end, Which may not be far distant.
And I leave A soul immortal in your charge, Maurine. From this most holy, sad and sacred eve, Till God shall claim her, she is yours to keep, To love and shelter, to protect and guide.” She touched the slumb’ring cherub at her side, And Vivian gently bore her, still asleep, And laid the precious burden on my breast.
A solemn silence fell upon the scene. And when the sleeping infant smiled, and pressed My yielding bosom with her waxen cheek, I felt it would be sacrilege to speak, Such wordless joy possessed me.