Explore "My Hildegarde" by St. George Rathborne on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It was a dreadful moment when this paralyzing fear beset me -- when it seemed as though the sun were hidden once more behind the black tempest clouds, and the atmosphere possessed a coldness that penetrated to my very marrow.
Dead! -- my Hildegarde, and just when I had found her -- when our hearts had been brought together after this weary separation -- dead, and I held only the beautiful clay in my arms, the spirit having taken its upward flight.