But here the Body sat up in the bed, ash-white, with parted lips and straining eyes.
"What? Quick, quick, dear Body—say?——"
"Say that I loved best that in her which I loved best in myself—the Soul. Tell her I have never wholly despaired. Ah, if only the Soul were here, I would not even now despair! Tell her I leave all to the Soul—and—and—love shall triumph——"
There was a rush of blood, a gurgling cry, and the Body sank back lifeless. In the very moment of death the eyes lightened with a wonderful radiance—it was as though the evening stars suddenly came through the dark.
The Will looked to see whence it came. The Soul stood beside him, white, wonderful, radiant.
"I have come," he said.
"For me?" said the Will, shaking as with an ague, yet in bitter irony.
"Yes, for you, and for the Body too."
"For the Body?—see, he is already clay. What word have you to say to that, to me who likewise am already perishing?
"This—do you remember what so brief a while ago we three as one wrote—wrote with my spirit, through your mind, and the Body's hand—these words: Love is more great than we conceive, and Death is the keeper of unknown redemptions?"