Could that be only fancy? Surely not!
Th' impression was so absolute, she gave
Her spirit up entirely to the sweet
Beatitude, and breathed aloud his name.
The loving earnest eyes withdrew from hers,
Grew dim, and seem'd to melt away; the arm
Receded, and the shoulder was no more
Beneath her leaning head. She roused herself
With effort from the dreamy bliss of strange
And actual presence that possess'd her; went
To find his parents old, to cheer them with
Her talk, and help them pass the hours away
Without too restless looking forth for him.
Yet, spite of all, their glances constantly
Would wander up the path by which he should
Appear; and still they spoke in idle phrase
Of aught beside the one thing that engross'd
Their thought: until the wrinkled mother sigh'd,
And murmur'd low: " Not come, not come; my boy's
Not come," and shook her agèd head, down bent.
"He'll come, be sure he'll come; he will be here.
He said it, mother; and you know he keeps
His word," soft whisper'd in her ear the voice
Of Mary; " trust in him; have patient hope.
Before the day is out, you'll see him here,
If God permit."

But dinner-time arrived,
And yet no Charley. " Come, we will begin,"
The grey-haired father said, with trial at
A smiling jest; " who knows but he will come
In pudding-time? In time to drink the toast
Of ' Merry Christmas and a good New Year'?"
But dinner pass'd, and still no Charley came.
Before they drew their chairs around the hearth,
The grey-hair' d father solemnly arose,
And fill'd his glass, and said, " God bless my son!
I would it had been His good will to let
My agèd eyes behold him here at home
On this blest day, to cheer our hearts, and bring
Us prospect of a surely happy year,
With him beside us; but God's will be done!"
He reverently raised his glass in act
To drink, but stood suspended, motionless:
"Great Heaven! he's there! I see him there!—- my son!"
His gaze was fix'd upon the hearth, where, in
The rich red light, thrown by the Christmas fire,
He saw a form, the very figure of
His sailor son. The old man moved a step
Towards it; but 'twas gone—- 'twas there no longer.
"'Tis strange," the old lips mutter'd; "sure, I saw
Him there—- my Charley, my own sailor lad!"
He pass'd his hand across his brows, and sank
Into his chair. " I saw him too," low said
The wrinkled mother—- " saw him standing there
With smiling lips and eyes brimful of love;
I saw him clearly as I see you all.
Alas, 'twas only for a second! Gone!
He's gone! And we shall never see him more!
I know, I'm sure, it was his spirit sent,
To let us understand he's dead! my boy!
My Charley! Oh, my brave, my darling boy!"
An awe fell on them all, a deep, deep awe;
And very sad and silently they sat
Around their Christmas fire, and watch'd the log
Of yule to embers red and then to dusk
White ash die out. With heavy hearts they bade
Good night; but gentle Mary Gray soft spoke,
And said, " His word was kept; God granted him
To come. He said we all should see him here;
And God vouchsafed him to our sight. Thank God!"

She press'd her lover's parents in her arms,
And look'd them in the face with a strange calm
Of faith and trust. And ever from that night
She wore the same serene regard, and came
And went, and made his parents her chief care,
And soothed them with her placid words, and gave
The cottage light with her sweet patient look
And loving ways. But deadly pale she was,
And thin and shrunk; scarce half her former self
She seem'd in bulk, so shadowy spare she grew;
A wasted figure, hollow cheek that made
Her eyes look large unearthly, and a step
Of gliding weightlessness: a maiden ghost,
Far rather than a living girl, she moved;
And once when Charley's mother noticed it,
And said she must not grow so thin and pale,
She look'd more like a spirit than a lass
Of flesh and blood, she smiled within herself
And thought, " The more like him!" but only said
Some cheering playful words to draw away
The mother's mind from sadness.

So, the weeks
Lagg'd by, till the new year was well-nigh two
Months old: and yet no news. The sky was clear
One afternoon; the February rains
And churlish flaws had yielded to the bland
First touch of mildness. Mary stood beside
The cottage casement, looking forth upon
The moss-grown apple-tree, 'neath which she last
Had seen her sailor love ere he took leave.
His sister Peggy crept close to her, and
The two kept silent sympathetic gaze,
Each thinking of the same unspoken theme.
At length fair Peggy, once so brisk and blithe,
Said whisperingly: " Mary, if you fade
Into a slender spectre thus, you'll not
Be long with us; and we cannot afford
To lose you, dear; you must remain on earth.
My poor old father and my mother, both,
Sore need you now, and more than ever, dear
You must remain to comfort them, you must!"
"I'm going to him!" was Mary's low-breathed soft
Reply; " you will not grudge me going to him,
Dear Peggy, will you?" Peggy answer'd not;
And both the girls stood hand in hand, with eyes
Still bent upon the leafless apple-tree.
"When its first budding green appears, you'll know
Me gone to meet him, never more to part,"
Said Mary, with a tender inward voice
Of deep content. She paused, and then said, " Hush!
Look there! Do yon see what I often see—-
His figure, there, beneath the apple-tree?
Look, Peggy, look! and tell me if you see
It too. It seems to me so plain this time,
I cannot think but you must see it too."
The face of Peggy flushed to flame, her breath
Was held, her hands were clasp'd and raised, stretch'd forth
In eagerness of doubt and hope and joy
At what she saw. " 'Tis he!" she cried, " 'tis he!
Dear Mary, it is he himself come back!"
She flung the casement wide, and called aloud:
And then sprang forward Charley; darted in,
And caught his Mary in his arms before
She fell to earth. " My darling! She has swoon'd!
I fear'd it would be thus. I hung about
The garden ere I'd enter, lest you might
Have heard the tidings of my death, and sight
Of me thus suddenly should startle your
Dear mourning hearts. My Mary! sweet, look up!
Look up, my dear one! See, your sailor is
Return'd, unharm'd, unchanged—- return'd to you,
To all his dear ones! Sweet, revive!" At sound