She forgot herself wholly in grief that he was gone. She would never
hear him speak or laugh again; never again kiss the trouble from his
eyes; never feel the warm breath of him, the hand-grip of him. He was
dead; and she saw him lying straight and cold in a padded coffin, with
his hands crossed and cerecloth stiffly tying up his jaws. He would sink
into the silence that dwelt under the roots of the green grass; while
she must go on and fight the world, and in fighting it, bring down upon
his grave bitter words and sharp censures from the lips of those who did
not understand.

Before which reflection Death came closer and looked kind; and the
thought of his hand was cool and comforting, as the hand of a grey moor
mist sweeping over the heath after fiery days of cloudless sun. Death
stood very near and beckoned at the dark portals of her thought. Behind
him there shone a great light, and in the light stood Clem; but the
Shadow filled all the foreground. To go to her loved one, to die quickly
and take their mutual secret with her, seemed a right and a precious
thought just then; to go, to die, while yet he lay above the earth, was
a determination that had even a little power to solace her agony. She
thought of meeting him standing alone, strange, friendless on the other
side of the grave; she told herself that actual duty, if not the vast
love she bore him, pointed along the unknown road he had so recently
followed. It was but justice to him. Then she could laugh at Time and
Fate and the juggling unseen Controller who had played with him and her,
had wrecked their little lives, forced their little passions under a
sham security, then snapped the thread on which she hung for everything,
killed the better part of herself, and left her all alone without a hand
to shield or a heart to pity. In the darkness, as the moon stole away
and her chamber window blackened, she sounded all sorrow's wide and
solemn diapason; and the living sank into shadows before her mind's
accentuated and vivid picture of the dead. Future life loomed along one
desolate pathway that led to pain and shame and griefs as yet untasted.
The rocks beside the way hid shadowy shapes of the unfriendly; for no
mother's kindly hand would support her, no brother's stout arm would be
lifted for her when they knew. No pure, noble, fellow-creature might be
asked for aid, not one might be expected to succour and cherish in the
great strait sweeping towards her. Some i