Changing his position a little, he saw the face of Mrs. Fenton. He
dwelt on it with mingled grief and pain. More and more he became
absorbed in gazing, while love and anguish swelled in his heart. He
forgot where he was; he saw her only; he felt only her presence in all
the throng. His passion seemed to him greater than ever. He did not for
an instant think of her as of one who could or would requite his
affection; or even as one who belonged to his future life. He was
filled with a sense of the completeness of his devotion to her; he felt
that he had loved her more than Heaven itself; but he felt also that he
was bidding her good-by. He had not definitely said to himself that a
change was before him; yet looking at her he felt it. The shadow of an
eternal farewell seemed to be over him. He was benumbed with suffering;
he drank in her face greedily; he seemed to himself to be imprinting
for the last time upon his memory that which was dearer to him than
life, yet which he was to see no more.
The service ended at last, and once more the long procession of which
he was a part slowly made its way out of the church.
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