nd communion with my friends in
after time--now I had leapt the interval, and reached the utmost edge and
bourne of life. Thus wrapt in gloom, enclosed, walled up, vaulted over by
the omnipotent present, I was startled by the sound of feet on the steps of
the tomb, and I remembered her whom I had utterly forgotten, my angry
visitant; her tall form slowly rose upwards from the vault, a living
statue, instinct with hate, and human, passionate strife: she seemed to me
as having reached the pavement of the aisle; she stood motionless, seeking
with her eyes alone, some desired object--till, perceiving me close to
her, she placed her wrinkled hand on my arm, exclaiming with tremulous
accents, "Lionel Verney, my son!" This name, applied at such a moment by my
angel's mother, instilled into me more respect than I had ever before felt
for this disdainful lady. I bowed my head, and kissed her shrivelled hand,
and, remarking that she trembled violently, supported her to the end of the
chancel, where she sat on the steps that led to the regal stall. She
suffered herself to be led, and still holding my hand, she leaned her head
back against the stall, while the moon beams, tinged with various colours
by the painted glass, fell on her glistening eyes; aware of her weakness,
again calling to mind her long cherished dignity, she dashed the tears
away; yet they fell fast, as she said, for excuse, "She is so beautiful and
placid, even in death. No harsh feeling ever clouded her serene brow; how
did I treat her? wounding her gentle heart with savage coldness; I had no
compassion on her in past years, does she forgive me now? Little, little
does it boot to talk of repentance and forgiveness to the dead, had I
during her life once consulted her gentle wishes, and curbed my rugged
nature to do her pleasure, I should not feel thus."

Idris and her mother were unlike in person. The dark hair, deep-set black
eyes, and prominent features of the Ex-Queen were in entire contrast to the
golden tresses, the full blue orbs, and the soft lines and contour of her
daughter's countenance. Yet, in latter days, illness had taken from my poor
girl the full outline of her face, and reduced it to the inflexible shape
of the bone beneath. In the form of her brow, in her oval chin, there was
to be found a resemblance to her mother; nay in some moods, their gestures
were not unlike; nor, having lived so long together, was this wonderful.

There is a magic power i