death. Huge of frame, with stern suffering face he lay there;
and I came to him, and asked him of his hurt, and how he fared, while the
day grew slowly toward even, in that pest-chamber looking toward the
west; the sister came to him soon and knelt down by his bed-side to tend
him.

"O Christ! As the sun went down on that dim misty day, the clouds and
the thickly-packed mist cleared off, to let him shine on us, on that
chamber of woes and bitter unpurifying tears; and the sunlight wrapped
those two, the sick man and the ministering woman, shone on them--changed,
changed utterly. Good Lord! How was I struck dumb, nay, almost blinded
by that change; for there--yes there, while no man but I wondered; there,
instead of the unloving nurse, knelt a wonderfully beautiful maiden,
clothed all in white, and with long golden hair down her back. Tenderly
she gazed at the wounded man, as her hands were put about his head,
lifting it up from the pillow but a very little; and he no longer the
grim, strong wounded man, but fair, and in the first bloom of youth; a
bright polished helmet crowned his head, a mail-coat flowed over his
breast, and his hair streamed down long from his head, while from among
it here and there shone out threads of gold.

"So they spake thus in a quiet tone: 'Body and soul together again, Ella,
love; how long will it be now before the last time of all?' 'Long,' she
said, 'but the years pass; talk no more, dearest, but let us think only,
for the time is short, and our bodies call up memories, change love to
better even than it was in the old time.'

"Silence so, while you might count a hundred, then with a great sigh:
'Farewell, Ella, for long,'--'Farewell, Lawrence,' and the sun sank, all
was as before.

"But I stood at the foot of the bed pondering, till the sister coming to
me, said: 'Master Physician, this is no time for dreaming; act--the
patients are waiting, the fell sickness grows worse in this hot close
air; feel'--(and she swung open the casement), 'the outer air is no
fresher than the air inside; the wind blows dead toward the west, coming
from the stagnant marshes; the sea is like a stagnant pool too, you can
scarce hear the sound of the long, low surge breaking.' I turned from
her and went up to the sick man, and said: 'Sir Knight, in spite of all
the sickness about you, you yourself better strangely, and another month
will see you with your sword girt to your side again.' 'Thanks, kind