She has looked at you with the vigilant eyes of love; she has listened to you with the quick hearing of love--and she has found her own way to the truth.

She will not speak of it to me--she will not speak of it to any living creature.

I only know now how dearly she loved you.

In spite of herself she clings to you still.

Her life, poor soul, has been a barren one; unworthy, miserably unworthy, of such a nature as hers.