--Cecil--my moments now are numbered:--draw
back the curtains, that I may once more look upon the light of morning!"
Constance obeyed; and the full beams of day entered the room. "How
beautiful! how glorious!" repeated the dying woman, as her sight drank
in the reviving light; "it heralds me to immortality--where there is no
darkness--no disappointment--no evil! How pale are the rays of that
lamp, Cecil! How feeble man's inventions, contrasted with the works of
the Almighty!" Constance rose to extinguish it. "Let it be," she
continued, feebly; "let it be, dearest; it has illumined my last night,
and we will expire together." The affectionate daughter turned away to
hide her tears; but when did the emotion of a beloved child escape a
mother's notice?--"Alas! my noble Constance weeping! I thought she, at
all events, could have spared me this trial:--leave us for a few
moments; let me not see you weep, Constance--let me not see it--tears
enough have fallen in these halls;--do not mourn, my child, that your
mother will find rest at last."

How often did Constantia remember these words! How often, when the heart
that dictated such gentle chiding, had ceased to beat, did Constantia
Cecil, gazing into the depths of the blue and mysterious sky, think upon
her mother in heaven!

Lady Cecil had much to say to her husband during the remaining moments
of her existence; but her breathing became so feeble, that he was
obliged to lean over the couch to catch her words.

"We part, my own, and only beloved husband, for ever in this
world;--fain would I linger yet a little, to recount how much I have
loved you--in our more humble state--in this--oh! how falsely termed our
prosperity. My heart has shared your feelings. In our late bitter
trials, more than half my grief was, that you should suffer. Oh, Robert!
Robert! now, when I am about to leave you and all, for ever--how my
heart clings--I fear, sinfully clings--to the remembrance of our earlier
and purer happiness! My father's house! The noble oak, where the
ring-doves built, and under whose shadow we first met! The stream--where
you and Herbert--wild, but affectionate brother!--Oh! Robert, do not
blame me, nor start so at his name;--his only fault was his devotion to
a most kind master!--but who, that lived under the gentle influence of
Charles Stuart's virtues, could have been aught but devoted?--And yet
what deadly feuds came forth from this affection! Alas! his rich
heritage has