my pain. I had begun to lean on it as a comfortable breast. I woke up and
tore myself away from that siren sleep. It was my darling,--her love that
saved me. Without that thought of you, I never would have stirred again.
Where were you, what were you thinking that brought you so close to me?"

"Ah," said Moya in a whisper. "I was in that room across the hall, alone.
They were good to me that day; they made excuses and left me to myself. In
the afternoon a box came,--from poor father,--white roses, oh, sweet and
cold as snow! I took them up to that room and forced myself to go in. It
was where my things were kept, the trunks half packed, all the drawers and
closets full. And my wedding dress laid out on the bed. We girls used to
go up there at first and look at the things, and there was laughing and
joking. Sometimes I went up alone and tried on my hats before the glass,
and thought where I should be when I wore them, and--Well! all that
stopped. I dreaded to pass the door. Everything was left just as it was;
the shutters open, the poor dress covered with a sheet on the bed. The
room was a death-chamber. I went in. I carried the roses to my dead. I
drew down the sheet and put my face in that empty dress. It was my selfish
self laid out there--the girl who knew just what she wanted and was going
to get it if she could. Happiness I dared not even pray for--only
remembrance--everlasting remembrance. That we might know each other again
when no more life was left to part us--_my_ life. It seemed long to wait,
but that was my--marriage vow. I gave you all I could, remembrance, faith
till death."

"Then you are my own!" said Paul, his face transformed. "God was our
witness. Life of my life--for life and death!" Solemnly he took a
bridegroom's kiss from her lips.

"How do _you_ know that it is life that parts?"