unmeaning ice," said Juliet, pointing to the sun, "then will I suspect
the man I love to be a base unnatural monster, a thief and a parricide."

"Then you, and you alone, Juliet, are worthy of his love. And he loves
you. Ah! so truly, so well, that I feel that he is innocent. A voice
from heaven tells me so. Yes, dearest Juliet, God will yet vindicate his
injured servant, and you and Anthony will meet again."

"In heaven," said Juliet, weeping.

"On earth," returned Clary in feebler accents. "When you see each other,
Juliet, tell him that Clary loved him and prayed for him to the last;
that dying she blessed him, and believed him innocent. To you, Juliet,
I leave my harp, the friend and companion of my lonely childhood. When
you play the sweet airs I loved so well, think kindly of me. When you
wander by sparkling brooks, and through flowery paths, listening to the
song of birds, and the music of forest shades, remember me. Ah! I have
loved the bright and beautiful things of this glorious earth, and my
wish has been granted, that I might pass hence with sunshine about my
bed, and the music of Nature's wild minstrels ringing in my ears. Sun of
earth, farewell. Friends of earth we shall meet again. See, heaven
opens. Its one eternal day streams in upon my soul. Farewell.

"Happy spirit, welcome in;
Hark! the song of seraphim
Hails thy presence at the throne--
Earth is lost, and Heaven is won!
Enter in."

The voice died away in faint indistinct murmurs; the eye lost the living
fire; the prophetic lip paled to marble, quivered a moment, and was
still for ever. The spirit of Clary had passed the dark gateway, and was
the new-born of heaven.

"My sister; oh, my sister! Is she indeed gone from me for ever?"
exclaimed Frederic, bursting into the room, and flinging himself upon
the bed beside her. "Clary! my angel! Clary! What! cold and dead? Oh, my
poor heart!"

"Oh, how I envy her this blessed change!" said Juliet.

"Aye, 'tis a sin to weep for her. But grief is selfish, Miss Whitmore;
it will have its way. Oh! sister, dear sister, why did you leave me
alone, the last survivor of an unfortunate race?"

And thus sorrow poured forth its querulous wailings into the cold ear
of death. The storm which bereaves us of our best affections passes
over; the whirlwind, the thunder, and the shower, desolating our harvest
of expected joys; but the sun bursts forth again. Hope blossoms afr