Then she starts in fear, and a nameless dread,
As she thinks of her mother o'er and o'er,
Keeping lone watch with one lying dead,
In that fearful stillness, behind the door;.
And, raising her trembling heart to Heaven,
She asks of Him, who careth for birds,
That help and strength may to her be given,
And not in air die her earnest words.
She reaches the end of the lonely gloom,
She scarcely knows if in fear or joy,
She passes on to a snug warm room
And stands in the presence of Victor Roy.
With tremulous efforts the timid girl
Strives to utter her story of grief,
all things grow of a dizzy whirl
As she shivering stands like an aspen leaf.
He looks at the eyes so earnest and sad,
He hears the voice that is sweet and mild,
He sees a figure scantily clad,
And only mutters, "Why, that is the child."
He looks at the snowflakes melting fast
From the faded hood and the mantle fold,
While his thoughts go dreamily into the past,
And now he is young and now he is old.
He has taken the jewel in his hand,
He knows the mark which that Key-stone bears;
Upon any sea, upon any land,
The sign of a brother that jewel wears.
He looks at the Key-stone, with eyes whose ray
Grows dreamy like a somnambulist,
and Ethel murmurs, "I saw you to-day
At the church of St. John, the Evangelist.
Have I done any wrong in coming here?
'Twas only this evening my father died,
And mother is lonely and full of fear;
We have no friend in this world so wide."
And hearing the mournful voice again,
Seemed the unexplained spell to break;
And, in tones which were partly born of pain
And partly of hopefulness, Victor spake: