She walked with him under the pines: he read to her: and there
were long hours together over the piano. It was then that there was
born, out of Camilla Van Arsdale's love and faith and coming abnegation,
her holy and deathless song for the dead, to the noble words of the
"Dominus Illuminatio Mea," which to-day, chanted over the coffins of
thousands, brings comfort and hope to stricken hearts.
"In the hour of death, after this life's whim,
When the heart beats low, and the eyes grow dim,
And pain has exhausted every limb--
The lover of the Lord shall trust in Him."
On the last day she told him that they would not meet again. Life had
given to her all and more than all she had dared ask for. He must go
back to his work in the world, to the high endeavor that was laid upon
him as an obligation of his power, and now of their love. He must write
her; she could not do without that, now; but guardedly, for other eyes
than hers must read his words to her.
"Think what it is going to be to me," she said, "to follow your course;
to be able to pray for you, fighting. I shall take all the papers. And
any which haven't your name in shall be burned at once! How I shall be
jealous even of your public who love and admire you! But you have left
me no room for any other jealousy.
Pages:
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752