e opened his eyes, and looked fixedly on the distressed beings,
whom Miss Ophelia and the doctor were trying to urge from the apartment.
"Poor creatures!" he said, and an expression of bitter self-reproach
passed over his face. Adolph absolutely refused to go. Terror had
deprived him of all presence of mind; he threw himself along the
floor, and nothing could persuade him to rise. The rest yielded to Miss
Ophelia's urgent representations, that their master's safety depended on
their stillness and obedience.

St. Clare could say but little; he lay with his eyes shut, but it was
evident that he wrestled with bitter thoughts. After a while, he laid
his hand on Tom's, who was kneeling beside him, and said, "Tom! poor
fellow!"

"What, Mas'r?" said Tom, earnestly.

"I am dying!" said St. Clare, pressing his hand; "pray!"

"If you would like a clergyman--" said the physician.

St. Clare hastily shook his head, and said again to Tom, more earnestly,
"Pray!"

And Tom did pray, with all his mind and strength, for the soul that was
passing,--the soul that seemed looking so steadily and mournfully from
those large, melancholy blue eyes. It was literally prayer offered with
strong crying and tears.

When Tom ceased to speak, St. Clare reached out and took his hand,
looking earnestly at him, but saying nothing. He closed his eyes, but
still retained his hold; for, in the gates of eternity, the black hand
and the white hold each other with an equal clasp. He murmured softly to
himself, at broken intervals,

"Recordare Jesu pie--
* * * *
Ne me perdas--illa die
Querens me--sedisti lassus."

It was evident that the words he had been singing that evening were
passing through his mind,--words of entreaty addressed to Infinite Pity.
His lips moved at intervals, as parts of the hymn fell brokenly from
them.

"His mind is wandering," said the doctor.

"No! it is coming HOME, at last!" said St. Clare, energetically; "at
last! at last!"

The effort of speaking exhausted him. The sinking paleness of death
fell on him; but with it there fell, as if shed from the wings of some
pitying spirit, a beautiful expression of peace, like that of a wearied
child who sleeps.

So he lay for a few moments. They saw that the mighty hand was on him.
Just before the spirit parted, he opened his eyes, with a sudden light,
as of joy and recognition, and said _"Mother!"_ and then he was gone!

CHAPTER XXIX

The Unpr