“Shall I ever be among the 'glorified,'” she asked of her inner self; “among those who see the divine economy of suffering, which purifies the soul from all grossness? I must banish the thought of him from my mind,” she exclaimed, vehemently. “I must have no earthly moorings; far, far out on life's tumultuous sea, I see myself buffeting the waves alone.” Thus spoke reason, while her soul kept up the swelling tide of emotion, and soon away went thought and feeling far over the blue sea, where he was yet gazing on the beauties of the Old World.
Would chance once more send him across her path? Would she ever again look into those eyes of such wondrous depth? These were the thoughts which floated through her mind-the last she experienced before passing into dreamland.
Lulled in sweet sleep, she seemed to stand upon a shore watching the waves which threw, at each inflowing, beautiful shells at her feet. They were all joined in pairs, but none were rightly mated; all unmatched in size, form and color. What hand shall arrange them in order? Who will mate them, and re-arrange their inharmonious combinings?
She tried to tear a few asunder. She could not separate them, for they were held so firmly by the thick slime of the sea, that no hand could disunite them. 'They must go back, and be washed again and again by the waves,' a voice within seemed to say, 'on eternity's broad shore they will all be mated. They symbolize human life, and what in the external world are called marriages. The real mate is in the sea, but not joined to its like.'
A feeling of impatience came over her, as she saw the shells roll back, and the incoming tide still throwing more at her feet. The feeling deepened, and she awoke.
It was midnight; a gentle breeze scarce stirred the curtains of her windows and bed, and there broke over the room a wave of sound.
Dawn knew that some one was there, yet no fear of the visitant came upon her. She only feared her breath might disturb the delicate atmosphere which filled the room, growing at each moment more rarified and delicate in its quality. She knew that the presence could be none other than that of her mother, for none but she could so permeate her being, and fill the room with such an air of holiness, and she felt that in the atmosphere which was thus gathering, her angelic form must soon become cognizant to her sight. As these thoughts filled her mind, the rays of light began to converge and centre at her side. Her eyes seemed rivited to the spot, as she saw the dim but perfect outline of a form. It grew more tangible, until at last the form of her mother stood saintly and glorified before her.
O, the rapt ecstacy of such an hour; the soothing influence which flows into the brain when a mortal is thus blessed.
Dawn tried to speak; her lips parted, but no sound issued, and she learned that there is another communion than that of words, which mortals hold with those who have passed into a broader and deeper life.
Slowly the form faded away; first the limbs, then the shadows, or semi-transparent clouds, rose gradually, till nought but the white effulgent brow beamed out; yet but for an instant, then all was gone.