At another
time we should never have thought of it. I think we should have heard
that signal though, ere this,--I do, indeed.
_Helen_. What is it to die? Nor wood nor meadow, nor winding stream, nor
the blue sky, do _they_ see; nor the voice of bird or insect do they
hear; nor breeze, nor sunshine, nor fragrance visits them. Will there be
nothing left that makes this being then? The high, Godlike purpose--the
life whose breath it is,--can _that_ die?--the meek trust in Goodness
Infinite,--can _that_ perish? No.--This is that building of the soul
which nothing can dissolve, that house eternal, that eternity's wide
tempests cannot move. No--no--I am not afraid. No--Netty, I am not
afraid.
_Jan_. Will you come here, Miss Helen?
_Helen_. Well.
_Jan_. Look among those trees by the road-side--those pine trees, on the
side of the hill, where my finger points.--
_Helen_. Well--what is it?
_Jan_. Do you see--what a blinding sunshine this is--do you see
something moving there?--wait a moment--they are hid among the trees
now--you will see them again presently--There!--there they come, a troop
of them, see.
Pages:
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134