noon
I bent down beside her , took the rigid fingers of her hand in mine , and pressed my lips upon the bloodless but still beautiful forms of hers . I remembered her youth and her beauty -- the glowing promise of her mind , and the gentle temper of her heart . I remembered the dear hours of our first communion -- how pure were our delights -- how perfect my felicity . How we moved together as with one being only -- beside the broad streams of our birthplace -- under the shelter of shady pines -- morning , and noon , and in the star-lighted night -- never once dreaming that an hour like this would come ! And she seemed so perfect pure , as she was so perfect lovely ! Never did I hear from her lips sentiment that was not -- not only virtuous , but delicate and soft -- not only innocent but true -- not only true but fond ! Alas !