Who can describe the emotions of a true heart which feels that it is
appreciated by another noble heart? And if the love uniting these two
similar souls be an indissoluble bond, who can paint their indescribable
raptures? It seems as if they must feel, crowded into one brief instant,
all the joy and all the glory of life, embellished by the charm of
generous sacrifice.
“Oh, my Ordener, go; and if you never return, grief will kill me. I
shall have that tardy consolation.”
Both rose, and Ordener placed Ethel’s arm within his own, and took that
adored hand in his. They silently traversed the winding alleys of the
gloomy garden, and reluctantly reached the gate which led into the
world. There, Ethel, drawing a pair of tiny gold scissors from her
bosom, cut off a curl of her beautiful black hair.
“Take it, Ordener; let it go with you; let it be happier than I am.”
Ordener devotedly pressed to his lips this gift from his beloved.
She added: “Ordener, think of me; I will pray for you. My prayers may be
as potent with God as your arms with the demon.”
Ordener bowed before this angel. His soul was too full for words. They
remained clasped in each other’s arms for some time. As they were about
to part, perhaps forever, Ordener, with a sad thrill, enjoyed the
happiness of holding Ethel to his heart once more. At last, placing a
long, pure kiss upon the sweet girl’s clouded brow, he rushed violently
down the winding stairs, which a moment later echoed with the sweet and
painful word, “Farewell!”