ilent. I felt vaguely
that mine was the easier task; that living could be harder than dying;
but I had no words with which to comfort or strengthen him. I could
faintly smile when he would bend his head, and kiss my nerveless hand,
and I wondered if he knew how much I liked to lie quietly and look at
him. Yet I did not care for it all! I remember the watchful
indifference with which I regarded my physician's face, and followed
the motions of the nurse about the room. I remember my sister's tears,
and how little Nellie sat by me on the bed with her doll, until she
fell asleep on my pillow. I remember how the hours measured themselves
away, how the sunshine deepened and faded, how the night came, and all
grew dim and silent. An absolute hush rested upon the earth. The fire
blazed, but it had ceased its crackling; the watchers moved noiselessly
about the room, the street had become quiet, and everything seemed
awaiting some coming, some solemn change. As Philip leaned over me, and
I saw his lips move, but heard no sound, I fancied that perhaps my
hearing had gone from me, but I cared nothing for it! Then the fire
grew dim, the room seemed full of shadows, the lights faded away, and
my eyes became heavy, but I did not care to shut them, or to brush away
the film that covered them. My breath gained substance, and began to
push its way through my lungs, my throat seemed closing, and then
suddenly everything changed!

"It is not to my purpose, even were I allowed, to tell you anything of
the conditions of my present life, or to explain to you how I can
reveal myself to you, and why it was that Philip could never see me.
All that I am to tell you is connected with this earth.

"After the first surprise was over I turned to Philip, who was kneeling
by the bed. He could not believe that I was dead, but called vehemently
on me to look at him. I remember the joy with which I sprang to his
side, and putting my arms around, tried to turn his head away from the
dead body to my living, happy face! But it was all in vain, in vain! He
was deaf, he was blind to me! Our prayer, our compact was as nothing:
he knew only the dead wife! I was as indifferent to the body as to a
shadow on the wall; but to be clinging to him unrecognized, unfelt,
terrified me, shocked me! I cannot dwell on this, but after all was
over, and the body carried away, he was still ignorant of my presence.
I followed his aimless steps through the house; I stood by his