`` Away ! '' cried the lofty one . `` Thou hadst him living ; the dead is mine . '' `` Thine ! '' returned the other , shuddering . `` Well hast thou spoken ; the dead is thine . '' The proud girl started and stared into her face with a ghastly look , but a wild-and mournful expression passed across the features of the gentle one , and , weak and helpless , she sank down on the bed , her head pillowed beside that of the corpse and her hair mingling with his dark locks . A creature of hope and joy , the first draught of sorrow had bewildered her . `` Edith ! '' cried her rival . Edith groaned as with a sudden compression of the heart , and , removing her cheek from the dead youth 's pillow , she stood upright , fearfully encountering the eyes of the lofty girl . `` Wilt thou betray me ? '' said the latter , calmly . `` Till the dead bid me speak I will be silent , '' answered Edith . `` Leave us alone together . Go and live many years , and then return and tell me of thy life . He too will be here . Then , if thou tellest of sufferings more than death , we will both forgive thee . '' `` And what shall be the token ? '' asked the proud girl , as if her heart acknowledged a meaning in these wild words .
`` This lock of hair , '' said Edith , lifting one of the dark clustering curls that lay heavily XXXXX the dead man 's brow .
Till across beside hast if into of on than with