"feeble as I am, and with the whole care and nursing of that dear
child upon me."

"Indeed, my dear," said St. Clare, "I thought our cousin relieved you of
that."

"You talk like a man, St. Clare,--just as if a mother _could_ be
relieved of the care of a child in that state; but, then, it's all
alike,--no one ever knows what I feel! I can't throw things off, as you
do."

St. Clare smiled. You must excuse him, he couldn't help it,--for St.
Clare could smile yet. For so bright and placid was the farewell voyage
of the little spirit,--by such sweet and fragrant breezes was the small
bark borne towards the heavenly shores,--that it was impossible to
realize that it was death that was approaching. The child felt no
pain,--only a tranquil, soft weakness, daily and almost insensibly
increasing; and she was so beautiful, so loving, so trustful, so
happy, that one could not resist the soothing influence of that air of
innocence and peace which seemed to breathe around her. St. Clare found
a strange calm coming over him. It was not hope,--that was impossible;
it was not resignation; it was only a calm resting in the present, which
seemed so beautiful that he wished to think of no future. It was like
that hush of spirit which we feel amid the bright, mild woods of autumn,
when the bright hectic flush is on the trees, and the last lingering
flowers by the brook; and we joy in it all the more, because we know
that soon it will all pass away.

The friend who knew most of Eva's own imaginings and foreshadowings was
her faithful bearer, Tom. To him she said what she would not disturb her
father by saying. To him she imparted those mysterious intimations which
the soul feels, as the cords begin to unbind, ere it leaves its clay
forever.

Tom, at last, would not sleep in his room, but lay all night in the
outer verandah, ready to rouse at every call.

"Uncle Tom, what alive have you taken to sleeping anywhere and
everywhere, like a dog, for?" said Miss Ophelia. "I thought you was one
of the orderly sort, that liked to lie in bed in a Christian way."

"I do, Miss Feely," said Tom, mysteriously. "I do, but now--"

"Well, what now?"

"We mustn't speak loud; Mas'r St. Clare won't hear on 't; but Miss
Feely, you know there must be somebody watchin' for the bridegroom."

"What do you mean, Tom?"

"You know it says in Scripture, 'At midnight there was a great cry
made. Behold, the bridegroom cometh.' That's what I'm spectin now, e