It was some time before we recovered, before we felt that we were alone.

O ye moments that I can now recall with so little sadness in the mellow
and sweet remembrance, rest ever holy and undisclosed in the solemn
recesses of the heart! Yes, whatever confession of weakness was
interchanged, we were not unworthy of the trust that permitted the
mournful consolation of the parting. No trite love-tale, with vows not
to be fulfilled, and hopes that the future must belie, mocked the
realities of the life that lay before us. Yet on the confines of the
dream we saw the day rising cold upon the world; and if--children as we
well-nigh were--we shrank somewhat from the light, we did not blaspheme
the sun and cry, "There is darkness in the dawn!"

All that we attempted was to comfort and strengthen each other for that
which must be; not seeking to conceal the grief we felt, but promising,
with simple faith, to struggle against the grief. If vow were pledged
between us,--that was the vow: each for the other's sake would strive to
enjoy the blessings Heaven left us still. Well may I say that we were
children! I know not, in the broken words that passed between us, in
the sorrowful hearts which those words revealed, I know not if there
were that which they who own in human passion but the storm and the
whirlwind would call the love of maturer years,--the love that gives
fire to the song, and tragedy to the stage; but I know that there was
neither a word nor a thought which made the sorrow of the children a
rebellion to the Heavenly Father.

And again the door unclosed, and Fanny walked with a firm step to her
mother's side, and pausing there, extended her hand to me and said, as I
bent over it, "Heaven Will be with you!"