"No, I cannot," said he, in heart-rending tones; "I cannot be submissive. My heart is rebellious; in my anguish I could tear it from my breast when I see you suffer!" "I am not suffering, Philip," said she, her countenance radiant with a heavenly smile. "All pain has now left me, and I feel as though I floated in a rosy cloud, high above all earthly sorrow. From this height I see how paltry all earthly sorrows are, and how little they deserve a single tear. Here below, all is paltry and insignificant--above, all is great and sublime. Oh, Philip, how sweet it will be to meet you once more up there! In blissful embrace, our spirits will soar from star to star, and the glories of all worlds and the mysteries of all creations will be made manifest to us, and our life will be bliss and joy unending! The cloud is soaring higher and higher! Philip, I see thee no longer!" "But I see thee, my darling," cried Philip, despairingly, as he clasped her sinking head between his hands, and covered it with tears and kisses. "Do not leave me, Marie; stay with me, thou sole delight of my life! Do not leave me alone in the world." His imploring voice had that divine power which, as we are told by the Greeks, breathed life into stone, and transformed a cold, marble statue into a warm, loving woman. His imploring voice recalled the spirit of the loving woman to the body already clasped in the chilly embrace of death. "You shall not be solitary, Philip," she murmured; "it is so sad to have to struggle alone through life. I must go, Philip, but you shall not be left alone." "But I will be if you leave me, Marie; therefore stay! Oh, stay!" "I cannot, Philip," gasped Marie, in low tones. "You must place another at your side! Another must fill my place. Hear my last wish, my last prayer, Philip. Take a wife, marry!" "Impossible, Marie, you cannot be so cruel as to desire this." "I have thought of this a great deal, have struggled with my own heart, and am now convinced that you must do so. You must have a wife at your side who loves you. Swear that you will seek such a wife. Swear this, and accord me a last joy on earth." She raised her hand once more, and her dying gaze was fastened on him imploringly. He could not resist it; he clasped the pale fingers in his quivering, burning hands, and swore that he would do as she bade him. A faint smile flitted over her countenance, and her eyes sought out the faithful old woman, who had loved her like a mother, and who found it no longer necessary to conceal her tears, as she had been doing for many months, in holy and heroic deception. "Trude," whispered Marie, "you have heard his vow, and you must remind him of it, and see that he keeps it, and marries within the year. Kiss me, Trude, and swear that you will do so!"