ht comfort a child, till she looked
up, as if to inquire somewhat of him. And he said smiling, "So this is
my dear sister indeed--yes, I will be content with that--and now take me
to the dear Helen, that I may see if my art can comfort her." Then it
was very sweet to Paul's sore heart that she drew her arm within his own
and led him up from the room. Then there came in haste the Lady Beckwith
down to meet them, with a look of pain upon her face; and Paul said,
still smiling, "We are brother and sister henceforth." Then the Lady
Beckwith smiled too out of her grief and said, "Oh, it is well."

Then they passed together through the oratory and entered the chamber of
death. And then Paul saw a heavenly sight. The room was a large one, dim
and dark. In a chair near the fire, all in white, sate a maiden like a
lily--so frail and delicate that she seemed like a pure spirit, not a
thing of earth. She sate with a hand upraised between her and the fire;
and when Paul came in, she looked at him with a smile in which appeared
nothing but a noble patience, as though she had waited long; but she
did not speak. Then they drew a chair for Paul, and he took his lute,
and sang soft and low, a song of one who sinks into sweet dreams, when
the sounds of day are hushed--and presently he made an end. Then she
made a sign that Paul should approach, and he went to her, and kneeled
beside her, and kissed her hand. And Margaret came out of the dark, and
put her hand on Paul's shoulder saying, "This is our brother." And Helen
smiled in Paul's face--and something, a kind of heavenly peace and love,
seemed to pass from her eyes and settle in Paul's heart; and it was told
him in that hour, he knew not how, that this was his bride whom he had
loved, and that he had loved Margaret for her sake; and that moment
seemed to Paul to be worth all his life that had gone before, and all
that should go after. So he knelt in the silence; and then in a moment,
he knew not where or whence, the whole air seemed full of a heavenly
music about them, such music as he had never dreamed of, the very soul
and essence of the music of earth. But Helen laid her head back, and,
smiling still, she died. And Paul laid her hand down.

Then without a word he rose, and went from the chamber; and he stepped
out into the garden, and paced there wondering; he saw the trees stand
silent in their sleep, and the flowers like stars in their dewy beds. And
he knew that God was very nea