me, and only in me, he could find a comforter, a soother--He, he! And I
had just arrived in England, was under his mother's roof, had not then
once more seen you; and--and--what could I answer? Strengthen me,
strengthen me, you whom I look up to and revere. Yes, yes, you are
right. We must see each other no more. I am betrothed to another,--to
him! Strengthen me!"

All the inherent nobleness of the poet's nature rose at once at this
appeal.

"Oh, Helen--sister--Miss Digby, forgive me. You need no strength from
me; I borrow it from you. I comprehend you, I respect. Banish all
thought of me. Repay our common benefactor. Be what he asks of you,--
his comforter, his soother; be more,--his pride and his joy. Happiness
will come to you, as it comes to those who confer happiness and forget
self. God comfort you in the passing struggle; God bless you, in the
long years to come. Sister, I accept the holy name now, and will claim
it hereafter, when I too can think more of others than myself."

Helen had covered her face with her hands, sobbing; but with that soft,
womanly constraint which presses woe back into the heart. A strange
sense of utter solitude suddenly pervaded her whole being, and by that
sense of solitude she knew that he was gone.




CHAPTER XIV.

In another room in that same house sat, solitary as Helen, a stern,