kness. "And, Rose,"----she sighs, then ceases abruptly, while a
quiver of sudden scorn writhes spurningly down eyelid and nostril and
pains the whole face.

He erects himself, then reaches his hand for the rose in her belt,
glances at me,--the dead thing in my bosom rising and falling with my
turbulent heart,--holds the rose to his lips, leaves her. How keen are
my ears! how flushed my cheek! how eager and fierce my eyes! He
approaches; I snatch the rose and tear its petals in an angry shower,
and then a dim east-wind pours in and scatters my dream like flakes of
foam. All dreams go; youth and hope desert me; the dark claims me. O
room, surrender me! O sickness and sorrow, loose your weary hold!

It maddens me to know that the sun will shine again, the tender grass
grow green, the veery sing, the crocus come. She will walk in the light
and re-gather youth, and I moulder, a forgotten heap. Oh, why not all
things crash to ruin with me?

Pain, pain, pain! Where is my father? Why is he away, when they know I
die? He used to hold me once; he ought to hear me when I call. He would
rest me, and stroke the grief aside,--he is so strong. Where is he?

These amulets stumbling round again? Amber, amber gods, you did mischief
in your day! If I clutched you hard, as Lu did once, all your spells
would be broken.--It is colder than it was. I think I will go to sleep.

What was that? How loud and resonant! It stuns me. It is too sonorous.
Does sound flash? Ah! the hour. Another? How long the silver toll swims
on the silent air! It is one o'clock,--a passing bell, a knell. If I
were at home by the river, the tide would be turning down, down, and out
to the broad, broad sea. Is it worth while to have lived?

Have I spoken? She looks at me, rises, and touches that bell-rope that
always brings him. How softly he opens the door! Waiting, perhaps. Well.
Ten years have not altered him much. The face is brighter,
finer,--shines with the eternal youth of genius. They pause a moment; I
suppose they are coming to me; but their eyes are on each other.

Why must the long, silent look with which he met her the day I got my
amber strike back on me now so vindictively? I remember three looks:
that, and this, and one other,--one fervid noon, a look that drank my
soul, that culminated my existence. Oh, I remember! I lost it a little
while ago. I have it now. You are coming? Can't you hear me? See! these
costly _liqueurs_, these precious perfumes b