YOURS WITH ALL MY HEART 



She thought, too, with sad foreboding, 

 how, in the beginning of my illness, four 

 blood-red, molten spikes, from the drift- 

 wood fire, had fallen, welded in a perfect 

 cross, on the hearth-stone of Island Haven, 



- could it presage the loss of my faithful, 

 loving presence ? 



No, no, dear hearts! Love is immortal, 

 if invisible. Although, in that beautiful 

 Sabbath morning, when the rosy dawn was 

 suffusing sea and sky, and rested like a bene- 

 diction on the two homes, I folded my meek 

 little fore paws over my snow-white breast, 

 and looked with long, tender farewell into 



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