Edward, I am here! I am your Mary! Know you not my face? My husband, speak to me! Oh, speak once more! This is no dream, but kind reality. _Edward_. [_Raising himself, and looking wildly around_.] You, Mary? Is this heaven, and am I dead? I did not know you died: when did you die? And John and Peter, Grace and little Ruth Grown to a woman; are they all with you? 'Tis very strange! O pity me, my friends! For God has pitied me, and pardoned, too; Else I should not be here. Nay, you seem cold, And look on me with sad severity. Have you no pardoning word--no smile for me? _Mary_. This is not Heaven's, but Earth's reality; This is the farm-house--these your wife and friends. I hold your hand, and I forgive you all. Pray you recline! You are not strong enough To bear this yet. _Edward_. [_Sinking back_.] O toiling heart! O sick and sinking heart! Give me one hour of service, ere I die! This is no dream. This hand is precious flesh, And I am here where I have prayed to be. My God, I thank thee! Thou hast heard my prayer, And, in its answer, given me a pledge Of the acceptance of my penitence. How have I yearned for this one priceless hour! Cling to me, dearest, while my feet go down Into the silent stream; nor loose your hold, Till angels grasp me on the other side. _Mary_. Edward, you are not dying--must not die; For only now are we prepared to live. You must have quiet, and a night of rest. Be silent, if you love me! _Edward_. If I love? Ah, Mary! never till this blessed hour, When power and passion, lust and pride are gone, Have I perceived what wedded love may be;-- Unutterable fondness, soul for soul; Profoundest tenderness between two hearts Allied by nature, interlocked by life. I know that I shall die; but the low clouds That closed my mental vision have retired, And left a sky as clear and calm as Heaven. I must talk now, or never more on earth; So do not hinder me. _Mary_. [_Weeping_.] Have you a wish That I can gratify? Have you any words To send to other friends? _Edward_.