But it was no dream, for an hour later you might have seen a manly form sitting in that self-same place, bearing in his arms a pale girl, whom he cherished as tenderly as a mother her babe. And they were talking together—talking in low tones; and in all this wide universe neither of them knew or felt anything but the great joy of being thus side by side. They spoke of love, mightier than death, which many waters cannot quench. They spoke of yearnings, each for the other—of longing prayers—of hopes deferred—and then of this great joy: for she had hardly yet returned to the visible world. Scarce wakened from deadly faintness, she had not come back fully to the realm of life, only to that of love. And therefore it was, that without knowing that she spoke, she had said all, and compressed the history of those three years into one hour.
But at last, thoughtful for her health and provident of her weakness, he rose up and passed his arm around her to convey her home. And as he did so, he spoke one word that broke the whole charm.
‘You will allow me, Mary, the right of a future husband, to watch over your life and health?’
Then came back the visible world—recollection, consciousness, and the great battle of duty; and Mary drew away a little and said—
‘Oh, James! you are too late! that can never be!’
He drew back from her.
‘Mary, are you married?’
‘Before God I am!’ she said. ‘My word is pledged. I cannot retract it. I have suffered a good man to place his whole faith upon it—a man who loves me with his whole soul!’
‘But, Mary! you do not love him! That is impossible!’ said James, holding her off from him, and looking at her with an agonized eagerness. ‘After what you have just said, it is not possible.’