There are also glad trains which bring together; and soon Isabel was in one of these, and soon it had taken her to Theophil,--to whose ears at last had come the sound of wonderful wheels in the dead street, wheels that had stopped beneath his window, a rustle of alighting, an opening and shutting of doors, an approaching whisper on the staircase, and then, with reality unutterable--Isabel.
Isabel! You could hardly have told that Theophil was dying, and the face that Isabel thus found again was marked by none of the dreadful writing of death.

His eyes were brighter, his brow more hollow, his cheeks thinner,--that was all; and he was to be of those of whom we have spoken, whose flame of life burns brightly to the end.

No heavy mists of Lethe hung about his bed.

Till his last heartbeat, he was to be conscious of the nearness of Isabel.

For a fortnight he was thus to lie within sight and touch of her.