Helen!
_Helen_. 'Tis he! That tone's spell builds around me its all-sheltering
music-walls, and death is nothing. Oh God, when at thy dark will dimly
revealed, I trembled yesterday, I did not think in this most rosy bower
to meet its fearfulness.
_Mait_. Helen,--dost thou love me _yet_?
_Helen_. Doubter, am I dying here?
_Mait_. 'Tis her own most rich and blessed smile, even as of old in
mirth it shone upon me. Your murderer, you count me then?
_Helen_. Come hither,--let me lean on _you_. Star of the wilderness!--of
this life that is fading now, the sun!--_doth_ mine eye see thee, then,
at last? Oh! this is sweet! On its own holy home my head rests now.
Everard, in this dark world _Love leans on Faith_. How else, even in
God's love and loveliness, could I trust now for that strange future on
whose bloody threshold I am lying here; yes, and in spite of prayers and
trust, and struggling hopes. And yet--how beautiful it is--that love
invisible, invisible no more. Like glorious sunshine it is streaming
round me,--lighting all. The infinite of that thy smile hath imaged, as
real,--it beams on me now. Have faith, in _him_ I mean; for--if we meet
again--we'll need it then no more; and--how dim it grows--nay, let me
lean on you,--and--through _this_ life's darkening glass I shall see you
no more.
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