And yet, within her spirit
A far-off land was seen;
A home, which might have held her;
A love, which might have been;
And Life:  not the mere being
Of daily ebb and flow,
But Life itself had claim’d her,
And she had let it go!

XII.

Within her heart there echo’d
Again the well-known tune
That promised this bright future,
And ask’d her for its own: 
Then words of sorrow, broken
By half-reproachful pain;
And then a farewell, spoken
In words of cold disdain.

XIII.

Where now was the stern purpose
That nerved her soul so long? 
Whence came the words she utter’d,
So hard, so cold, so strong? 
What right had she to banish
A hope that God had given? 
Why must she choose earth’s portion,
And turn aside from Heaven?

XIV.

To-day!  Was it this morning? 
If this long, fearful strife
Was but the work of hours,
What would be years of life? 
Why did a cruel Heaven
For such great suffering call? 
And why—­O, still more cruel!—­
Must her own words do all?

XV.

Did she repent?  O Sorrow! 
Why do we linger still
To take thy loving message,
And do thy gentle will? 
See, her tears fall more slowly;
The passionate murmurs cease,
And back upon her spirit
Flow strength, and love, and peace.

XVI.

The fire burns more brightly,
The rain has passed away,
Herbert will see no shadow
Upon his home to-day;
Only that Bertha greets him
With doubly tender care,
Kissing a fonder blessing
Down on his golden hair.

NUMBER TWO.

I.

The studio is deserted,
Palette and brush laid by,
The sketch rests on the easel,
The paint is scarcely dry;
And Silence—­who seems always
Within her depths to bear
The next sound that will utter—­
Now holds a dumb despair.

II.

So Bertha feels it:  listening
With breathless, stony fear,
Waiting the dreadful summons
Each minute brings more near: 
When the young life, now ebbing,
Shall fail, and pass away
Into that mighty shadow
Who shrouds the house to-day.

III.

But why—­when the sick chamber
Is on the upper floor—­
Why dares not Bertha enter
Within the close-shut door? 
If he—­her all—­her Brother,
Lies dying in that gloom,
What strange mysterious power
Has sent her from the room?

IV.