anda; and when the fresh
sea-breezes blew from the lake, and the child felt freshest in the
morning, he would sometimes walk with her under the orange-trees in
the garden, or, sitting down in some of their old seats, sing to her
their favourite old hymns. The desire to do something was not confined
to Tom. Every servant in the establishment shewed the same feeling,
and in their way did what they could.' At length, the moment
of departure of this highly-prized being arrives. 'It is
midnight--strange, mystic hour, when the veil between the frail
present and the eternal future grows thin--then came the messenger!'
St Clare was called, and was up in her room in an instant. '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.' Tom arrived with the doctor. The house was
aroused--'lights were seen, footsteps heard, anxious faces thronged
the veranda, 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.

"Oh, if she would only wake, and speak once more!" he said; and,
stooping over her, lie 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!"

'The child lay panting on her pillows, as one exhausted; the large
clear eyes rolled up and fixed. Ah, what said those eyes that spoke so
much of heaven? Earth was passed, and earthly pain; but so solemn, so
mysterious, was the triumphant brightness of th