Eva, who still
slept.

What was it he saw that made his heart stand still? Why was no word
spoken between the two? Thou canst say, who hast seen that same
expression on the face dearest to thee;--that look indescribable,
hopeless, unmistakable, that says to thee that thy beloved is no longer
thine.

On the face of the child, however, there was no ghastly imprint,--only
a high and almost sublime expression,--the overshadowing presence of
spiritual natures, the dawning of immortal life in that childish soul.

They stood there so still, gazing upon her, that even the ticking of the
watch seemed too loud. In a few moments, Tom returned, with the doctor.
He entered, gave one look, and stood silent as the rest.

"When did this change take place?" said he, in a low whisper, to Miss
Ophelia.

"About the turn of the night," was the reply.

Marie, roused by the entrance of the doctor, appeared, hurriedly, from
the next room.

"Augustine! Cousin!--O!--what!" she hurriedly began.

"Hush!" said St. Clare, hoarsely; _"she is dying!"_

Mammy heard the words, and flew to awaken the servants. The house was
soon roused,--lights were seen, footsteps heard, anxious faces thronged
the verandah, and looked tearfully through the glass doors; but St.
Clare heard and said nothing,--he saw only _that look_ on the face of
the little sleeper.

"O, if she would only wake, and speak once more!" he said; and, stooping
over her, he spoke in her ear,--"Eva, darling!"

The large blue eyes unclosed--a smile passed over her face;--she tried
to raise her head, and to speak.

"Do you know me, Eva?"

"Dear papa," said the child, with a last effort, throwing her arms about
his neck. In a moment they dropped again; and, as St. Clare raised his
head, he saw a spasm of mortal agony pass over the face,--she struggled
for breath, and threw up her little hands.

"O, God, this is dreadful!" he said, turning away in agony, and wringing
Tom's hand, scarce conscious what he was doing. "O, Tom, my boy, it is
killing me!"

Tom had his master's hands between his own; and, with tears streaming
down his dark cheeks, looked up for help where he had always been used
to look.

"Pray that this may be cut short!" said St. Clare,--"this wrings my
heart."

"O, bless the Lord! it's over,--it's over, dear Master!" said Tom; "look
at her."

The child lay panting on her pillows, as one exhausted,--the large clear
eyes rolled up and fixed. Ah, what said those