"Oh, say not that! Let me call you back to life. Turn to me again as
I have turned to you with my whole heart. The world is still
beautiful; and in it we will be happy together."

"No, Edwin," replied the dying maiden. "The history of my days here
is written, and the angel is about sealing the record. I am going
where the heart will never feel the touch of sorrow. I wished to see
you once more before I died; and you are here. I have, once more,
felt your breath upon my cheek; once more held your hand in mine.
For this my heart is grateful. You had become the sun of my life,
and when your face was turned away, the flower that spread itself
joyfully in the light, drooped and faded. And now, the light has
come back again; but it cannot warm into freshness and beauty the
withered blossom."

"Oh, my Edith! Say not so! Live for me! I have no thoughts, no
affection that is not for you. The drooping flower will lift itself
again in the sunshine when the clouds have passed away."

As the young man said this, Edith raised herself up suddenly, and,
with a fond gesture, flung herself forward upon his bosom. For a few
moments her form quivered in his arms. Then all became still, and he
felt her lying heavier and heavier against him. In a little while he
was conscious that he clasped to his heart only the earthly
semblance of one who had passed away forever.

Replacing the light and faded form of her who, a little while
before, had been in the vigor of health, upon the bed, Edwin gazed
upon the sunken features for a few moments, and then, leaving a last