Dahlia lived seven years her sister’s housemate, nurse of the growing swarm.  She had gone through fire, as few women have done in like manner, to leave their hearts among the ashes; but with that human heart she left regrets behind her.  The soul of this young creature filled its place.  It shone in her eyes and in her work, a lamp to her little neighbourhood; and not less a lamp of cheerful beams for one day being as another to her.  In truth, she sat above the clouds.  When she died she relinquished nothing.  Others knew the loss.  Between her and Robert there was deeper community on one subject than she let Rhoda share.  Almost her last words to him, spoken calmly, but with the quaver of breath resembling sobs, were:  “Help poor girls.”

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You who may have cared for her through her many tribulations, have no fear
Can a man go farther than his nature? 
Cold curiosity
Found by the side of the bed, inanimate, and pale as a sister of death
Sinners are not to repent only in words
So long as we do not know that we are performing any remarkable feat
There were joy-bells for Robert and Rhoda, but none for Dahlia