calm devotion seemed to usurp the place of earthly affections, and earthly passions. The soul was preparing for its upward flight. Delmé led away the sorrowing husband, and the minister of Christ was left alone, to hear the contrite outpourings of a weak departing sinner. The priest left the chamber, but spoke not, either to the physician, or the expecting brothers. His impassioned glance belonged to another and a higher world. He made one low obeisance-his robes swept the passage quickly-and the Franciscan friar sought his lonely cell to reflect on death. The brothers re-entered. They found Acmé in the attitude in which they had left her-her features wearing an expression at once radiant and resigned. But as her eye met George's-as she saw the havoc grief had already made-the feelings of the woman resumed the mastery. She extended her arms-she brought his lip to hers-as if she would have made that its resting place for ever. Alas! an inward pang told her to be brief. She drew away her face, crimsoned with her passion's flush-tremblingly grasped his handand, with voice choked by emotion, gave her last farewell. Giorgio, my dearest! my own! I shall soon join my parents. I feel this-and my mother's words, as she met me by the olive tree, ring in my ear. She told me I should die thus; but she told me, too, that I should kill the one dearest to me on earth. Thank God! this cannot be for I know my life to be ebbing fast. Dearest! do not mourn for me too much. You may find another Acmé-as true. But, oh! sometimes-yes! even when your hearts cling fondly together, as ours were wont to do-think of your own Acme-who loved you first-and only-and does it now! oh! how well! Giorgio! dear! dearest! adieu! My feet are so, so cold-and ice seems". A change shadowed the face, as from some corporeal pang. She tried to raise an ebony cross hung round her neck. In the effort, her features became convulsedand George heard a low gurgling in the throat, as from suffocation. Ah! that awful precursor of "the first dark hour of nothingness." George Delmé sprang to his feet, and was supporting her head, when the physician grasped his arm. "Stop! stop! you are preventing". The lower lip quivered-and drooped—slightly! very slightly! The head fell back. One long deep drawn sigh shook the exhausted frame. The face seemed to become fixed. Doctor Pormont extended his hand, and silently closed those dark fringed lids. The cold finger, with its harsh touch, once more brought consciousness. Once more the lid trembled! there was an up ward glance that looked reproachful! Another short sigh! Another! Lustreless and glaring was that once bright eye! Again the physician extended his hand. 66 Assuredly, gentlemen! vitality hath departed!" A deep-solemn-awful silence—which not a breath disturbed-came over that chamber of death. It seemed as if the insects had ceased their hum-that twilight had suddenly turned to night -that an odour, as of clay, was floating around them, and impregnating the very atmosphere. George took the guitar, whose chords were never more to be woke to harmony by that loved hand, and dashed it to the ground. Ere Delmé could clasp him, he had staggered to the bedside-and fallen over Acmé's still form. And did her frame thrill with rapture? did she bound to his caress? did her lip falter from her grateful emotion?-did she bury his cheek in her raven tresses? No, no! still-still-still were all these! still as death! "Woe unto us, not her; for she sleeps well." "The Niobe of nations! there she stands, Of their heroic dwellers; dost thou flow, Rise, with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress." UNDERTAKERS! not one word shall henceforth pass our lips in your dispraise! An useful and meritorious tribe are you! What! though sleek and rosy cheeked, you seem to have little in common with the wreck of our hopes? |