e flesh. You will
not look upon this mortal face of mine again."

"Why do you say so?"

"Because I feel that it is true."

He glanced up hastily, and she answered the question in his eyes.

"No--indeed--not that--I never thought of such a thing. I think it a
crime. We are bid to endure the burden of our day. I shall go on weaving
my web and painting my picture till, soon or late, God says, 'Hold,' and
then I shall die gladly, yes, very gladly, because the real beginning is
at hand."

"Oh! that I had your perfect faith," groaned Morris.

"Then, if you love me, learn it from me. Should I, of all people, tell
you what is not true? It is the truth--I swear it is the truth. I am not
deceived. I know, I know, I _know_."

"What do you know--about us?"

"That, when it is over, we shall meet again where there is no marriage,
where there is nothing gross, where love perfect and immortal reigns and
passion is forgotten. There that we love each other will make no heart
sore, not even hers whom here, perhaps, we have wronged; there will be
no jealousies, since each and all, themselves happy in their own way
and according to their own destinies, will rejoice in the happiness of
others. There, too, our life will be one life, our work one work, our
thought one thought--nothing more shall separate us at all in that
place where there is no change or shadow of turning. Therefore," and she
clasped her hands and looked upwards, her face shining like a saint's,
although the tears ran down it, "therefore, 'O Death, where is thy
sting? O grave, where is thy victory?'"

"You talk like one upon the verge of it, who hears the beating of
Death's wings. It frightens me, Stella."

"I know nothing of that; it may be to-night, or fifty years hence--we
are always on the verge, and those Wings I have heard from childhood.
Fifty, even seventy years, and after them--all the Infinite; one tiny
grain of sand compared to the bed of the great sea, that sea from which
it was washed at dawn to be blown back again at nightfall."

"But the dead forget--in that land all things are forgotten. Were you
to die I should call to you and you would not answer; and when my time
came, I might look for you and never find you."

"How dare you say it? If I die, search, and you shall see. No; do _not_
search, wait. At your death I will be with you."

"Whatever happens in life or death--here or hereafter--swear that you
will not forget me, and that you will love