“Stop, Miss Thusa—don’t go on,” interrupted Helen, pale with emotion. “I cannot bear to hear it. It is too awful. I asked you for something beautiful, and you have chosen the most terrible theme. Don’t finish it.”
“Is there not something beautiful,” said the young doctor, bending down, and addressing her in a low voice—“is there not something beautiful in such pure and self-sacrificing love? Is there no chord in your heart that thrills responsive as you listen? Oh, Helen—I am sure you could devote yourself for one you loved.”
“Oh, yes!” she answered, forgetting, in her excitement, all her natural timidity. “I could do it joyfully, glorying in the sacrifice. But he, so selfish, so cruel, so sanguinary—it is from him I shrink. His heart is already marble—it cannot change.”
“Wait, child—wait till you hear the end,” cried Miss Thusa, inspired by the effect of her words. “He drew a dagger from his bosom, and was about to plunge it in his own heart, and die at her feet, when the old man of his dream entered and caught hold of his arm.”
“‘’Tis enough,’ he cried. ‘The trial is over. She has given you her heart, her warm, living heart—take it and cherish it. Without love, man turns to stone—and thus becomes a marble statue. You have proved your own love and hers, since you are willing to die for each other. Put up your dagger, and if you ever wound that heart of hers, the vengeance of Heaven rest upon you.’
“Thus saying, he departed, but strange to tell, as he was speaking, his face was all the time growing younger and fairer, his white beard gradually disappeared, and as he went through the door, a pair of white wings, tipped with gold, began to flutter on his shoulders. Then they knew it was an angel that had been with them, and they bowed themselves down to the floor and trembled. Is there any need of my telling you, that the Prince married the young maiden, and carried her to his kingdom, and set her on his throne? Is there any need of my saying how beautiful she looked, with a golden crown on her head, and a golden chain on her neck, and how meek and good she was all the time, in spite of her finery? No, I am sure there isn’t. Now, I must go to spinning.”
“That is beautiful!” cried Helen, the color coming back to her cheeks, “but the white dove, Miss Thusa, that was to fold its wings on his bosom. You have forgotten that.”
“Have I? Yes—yes. Sure enough, I am getting old and forgetful. The white dove that was to come from the east! I remember it all now:—After he had reigned awhile he dreamed again that he was commanded to go in quest of the dove, and take his young Queen with him. They were to go on foot as pilgrims, and leave all their pomp and state behind them, with their faces towards the east, and their eyes lifted to Heaven. While they were journeying on, the young Queen began to languish, and grow pale and wan. At last she sunk down at his feet, and told him that she was going to die, and leave him alone in his pilgrimage. The young King smote his breast, and throwing himself down by her side, prayed to God that he might die too. Then she comforted him, and told him to live for his people, and bow to the will of the Most High.
“‘You were willing to die for me,’ she cried, ‘show greater love by being willing to live when I am gone—love to God and me.’
“‘The will of God be done,’ he exclaimed, prostrating himself before the Lord. Then a soft flutter was heard above his head, and a beautiful white dove flew into his bosom. At the same time an angel appeared, whom he knew was the old man of his dream, all glorified as it were, and the moment he breathed on her, the dying Queen revived and smiled on her husband, just as she did in her mother’s cabin.