ften repelled with awe, is here. The
visible is about to become invisible. It is your turn to pass into the
unknown. You have seen other faces stiffen, and other people carried out
and forgotten. Your face is now going to chill the touch. You are going
to be carried out. But, most wonderful of all, you who have been so
keenly alive are glad to creep close to Death and lay your head in his
lap.

There are natures to whom suffering is degradation. Sympathy would burn
them like caustic. They are dumb on the side which seeks promiscuous
fellowship. They love one person, and live or die by that love.

"I have borne it by myself so far," Maria would think; "I can bear it by
myself the rest of the way."

Yet the sleepy nurse was often roused at dead of night by her sobbing:
"Oh, James, that you should be in the same town with me, and never come
near to see me die! And I love you,--I love you so in spite of
everything."

Sometimes she resolved to tell her brother the whole story. He would
perhaps think better of Dr. Dunlap than he now did. Yet, on the
contrary, his implacable pride and sense of justice might drive him
directly out to kill the man she loved. And again she would burn with
rage and shame at Dr. Dunlap's condescension to a legal marriage. He was
willing.

"You are not willing," she would whisper fiercely at the night candle.
"You do not love me any more."

The old glamour again covering her, she would lie in a waking dream for
hours, living over their stolen life together. And she puzzled herself
trying to fit the jagged pieces of her experience, and to understand why
all these things should happen. The mystery to come is not greater than
the mystery which has been, when one lies on a dying bed and counts the
many diverse individuals that have lived in his skin and been called by
his name.

At other times, all she had lost of common good flashed through Maria in
a spark: the deeds to other souls; the enjoyment of nature, which is a
continual discovery of new worlds; the calm joy of daily life, that best
prayer of thanks to Almighty God.

Maria always thought of these wholesome things when Angelique came in at
twilight, a little exhilarated by her escape from the tyrant at home.
The nurse would give place, and go out to talk with the other negroes,
while Angelique sat down and held Maria's hand. Perhaps invisible
streams of health flowed from her, quieting the sick girl. She smiled
with pure happiness, on