the spot whence they had raised
the body of our unfortunate friend, which they had some difficulty in
releasing from her convulsive embrace. But, hark! there is the first
drum for parade, and I have not yet exchanged my Indian garb."

Captain Blessington now quitted the room, and Sir Everard, relieved
from the restraining presence of his companions, gave free vent to his
emotion, throwing himself upon the body of his friend, and giving
utterance to the feelings of anguish that oppressed his heart.

He had continued some minutes in this position, when he fancied he felt
the warm tears of a human being bedewing a hand that reposed on the
neck of his unfortunate friend. He looked up, and, to his infinite
surprise, beheld Clara de Haldimar standing before him at the opposite
side of the bed. Her likeness to her brother, at that moment, was so
striking, that, for a second or two, the irrepressible thought passed
through the mind of the officer, it was not a living being he gazed
upon, but the immaterial spirit of his friend. The whole attitude and
appearance of the wretched girl, independently of the fact of her
noiseless entrance, tended to favour the delusion. Her features, of an
ashy paleness, seemed fixed, even as those of the corpse beneath him;
and, but for the tears that coursed silently down her cheek, there was
scarcely an outward evidence of emotion. Her dress was a simple white
robe, fastened round her waist with a pale blue riband; and over her
shoulders hung her redundant hair, resembling in colour, and disposed
much in the manner of that of her brother, which had been drawn
negligently down to conceal the wound on his brow. For some moments the
baronet gazed at her in speechless agony. Her tranquil exterior was
torture to him; for he, feared it betokened some alienation of reason.
He would have preferred to witness the most hysteric convulsion of
grief, rather than that traitorous calm; and yet he had not the power
to seek to remove it.

"You are surprised to see me here, mingling my grief with yours, Sir
Everard," she at length observed, with the same calm mien, and in tones
of touching sweetness. "I came, with my father's permission, to take a
last farewell of him whose death has broken my heart. I expected to be
alone; but--Nay, do not go," she added, perceiving that the officer was
about to depart. "Had you not been here, I should have sent for you;
for we have both a sacred duty to perform. May I not as