For fear of breaking the
spell, I did not dare cross the room to close Beulah's door or to reach
the outer door of my office, which was nearer hers than it was to my desk.
I waited--through a silence, broken only by Beulah's weeping, that seemed
hour-long. Then in Bob's voice came one low sob of joy:
"Beulah, Beulah, my Beulah!"
I realised that he had risen. I rose too, thinking that now I could close
the door. But again I saw a picture that transfixed me. Bob had taken
Beulah by both shoulders and he held her off and looked into her eyes long
and beseechingly. Never before nor since have I seen upon human face that
glorious joy which the old masters sought to get into the faces of their
worshippers who, kneeling before Christ, tried to send to Him, through
their eyes, their soul's gratitude and love. I stood as one enthralled.
Slowly and as reverently as the living lover touches the brow of his dead
wife, Bob bent his head and kissed her forehead. Again and again he drew
her to him and implanted upon her brow and eyes and lips his kisses. I
could not stand the scene any longer. I started to the corridor-door, and
then, as though for the first time either had known I was within hearing,
they turned and stared at me.
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