_Elsie._ 'T is the cessation of our breath.

Silent and motionless we lie; And no one knoweth more than this.

I saw our little Gertrude die, She left off breathing, and no more I smoothed the pillow beneath her head.

She was more beautiful than before.

Like violets faded were her eyes; By this we knew that she was dead.

Through the open window looked the skies Into the chamber where she lay, And the wind was like the sound of wings, As if angels came to bear her away.

Ah! when I saw and felt these things, I found it difficult to stay; I longed to die, as she had died, And go forth with her, side by side.

The Saints are dead, the Martyrs dead, And Mary, and our Lord, and I Would follow in humility The way by them illumined!

_Ursula._ My child! my child! thou must not die!

_Elsie_ Why should I live? Do I not know The life of woman is full of woe?

Toiling on and on and on, With breaking heart, and tearful eyes, And silent lips, and in the soul The secret longings that arise, Which this world never satisfies!

Some more, some less, but of the whole Not one quite happy, no, not one!

_Ursula._ It is the malediction of Eve!

_Elsie._ In place of it, let me receive The benediction of Mary, then.

_Gottlieb._ Ah, woe is me! Ah, woe is me!

Most wretched am I among men!

_Ursula._ Alas! that I should live to see Thy death, beloved, and to stand Above thy grave! Ah, woe the day!

_Elsie._ Thou wilt not see it. I shall lie Beneath the flowers of another land, For at Salerno, far away Over the mountains, over the sea, It is appointed me to die!

And it will seem no more to thee Than if at the village on market-day I should a little longer stay Than I am used.

_Ursula._ Even as thou sayest!

And how my heart beats, when thou stayest!

I cannot rest until my sight Is satisfied with seeing thee.

What, then, if thou wert dead?

_Gottlieb_ Ah me!

Of our old eyes thou art the light!

The joy of our old hearts art thou!

And wilt thou die?

_Ursula._ Not now! not now!

_Elsie_ Christ died for me, and shall not I Be willing for my Prince to die?

You both are silent; you cannot speak.

This said I, at our Saviour's feast, After confession, to the priest, And even he made no reply.

Does he not warn us all to seek The happier, better land on high, Where flowers immortal never wither, And could he forbid me to go thither?

_Gottlieb._ In G.o.d's own time, my heart's delight!

When he shall call thee, not before!

_Elsie._ I heard him call. When Christ ascended Triumphantly, from star to star, He left the gates of heaven ajar.

I had a vision in the night, And saw him standing at the door Of his Father's mansion, vast and splendid, And beckoning to me from afar.

I cannot stay!

_Gottlieb._ She speaks almost As if it were the Holy Ghost Spake through her lips, and in her stead!

What if this were of G.o.d?

_Ursula._ Ah, then Gainsay it dare we not.

_Gottlieb._ Amen!

Elsie! the words that thou hast said Are strange and new for us to hear, And fill our hearts with doubt and fear.

Whether it be a dark temptation Of the Evil One, or G.o.d's inspiration, We in our blindness cannot say.

We must think upon it, and pray; For evil and good in both resembles.

If it be of G.o.d, his will be done!

May he guard us from the Evil One!

How hot thy hand is! how it trembles!

Go to thy bed, and try to sleep.

_Ursula._ Kiss me. Good-night; and do not weep!

(ELSIE _goes out._)

Ah, what an awful thing is this!

I almost shuddered at her kiss.

As if a ghost had touched my cheek, I am so childish and so weak!

As soon as I see the earliest gray Of morning glimmer in the east, I will go over to the priest, And hear what the good man has to say!

A VILLAGE CHURCH.

_A woman kneeling at the confessional.

The Parish Priest (from within)_. Go, sin no more! Thy penance o'er, A new and better life begin!

G.o.d maketh thee forever free From the dominion of thy sin!

Go, sin no more! He will restore The peace that filled thy heart before, And pardon thine iniquity!

(_The woman goes out. The Priest comes forth, and walks slowly up and down the church_.)

O blessed Lord! how much I need Thy light to guide me on my way!

So many hands, that, without heed, Still touch thy wounds, and make them bleed!

So many feet, that, day by day, Still wander from thy fold astray!

Unless thou fill me with thy light, I cannot lead thy flock aright; Nor, without thy support, can bear The burden of so great a care, But am myself a castaway!

(_A pause_.)

The day is drawing to its close; And what good deeds, since first it rose, Have I presented, Lord, to thee, As offerings of my ministry?

What wrong repressed, what right maintained What struggle pa.s.sed, what victory gained, What good attempted and attained?

Feeble, at best, is my endeavor!

I see, but cannot reach, the height That lies forever in the light, And yet forever and forever, When seeming just within my grasp, I feel my feeble hands unclasp, And sink discouraged into night!