ause--It is good for me
that I was afflicted! Words of scripture, I suppose.

Then turning towards us, who were lost in speechless sorrow--O dear, dear
gentlemen, said she, you know not what foretastes--what assurances--And
there she again stopped, and looked up, as if in a thankful rapture,
sweetly smiling.

Then turning her head towards me--Do you, Sir, tell your friend that I
forgive him!--And I pray to God to forgive him!--Again pausing, and
lifting up her eyes as if praying that He would. Let him know how
happily I die:--And that such as my own, I wish to be his last hour.

She was again silent for a few moments: and then resuming--My sight
fails me!--Your voices only--[for we both applauded her christian, her
divine frame, though in accents as broken as her own]; and the voice of
grief is alike in all. Is not this Mr. Morden's hand? pressing one of
his with that he had just let go. Which is Mr. Belford's? holding out
the other. I gave her mine. God Almighty bless you both, said she, and
make you both--in your last hour--for you must come to this--happy as I
am.

She paused again, her breath growing shorter; and, after a few minutes
--And now, my dearest Cousin, give me your hand--nearer--still nearer
--drawing it towards her; and she pressed it with her dying lips--God
protect you, dear, dear Sir--and once more, receive my best and most
grateful thanks--and tell my dear Miss Howe--and vouchsafe to see, and to
tell my worthy Norton--she will be one day, I fear not, though now lowly
in her fortunes, a saint in Heaven--tell them both, that I remember them
with thankful blessings in my last moments!--And pray God to give them
happiness here for many, many years, for the sake of their friends and
lovers; and an heavenly crown hereafter; and such assurances of it, as I
have, through the all-satisfying merits of my blessed Redeemer.

Her sweet voice and broken periods methinks still fill my ears, and never
will be out of my memory.

After a short silence, in a more broken and faint accent--And you, Mr.
Belford, pressing my hand, may God preserve you, and make you sensible of
all your errors--you see, in me, how all ends--may you be--And down sunk
her head upon her pillow, she fainting away, and drawing from us her
hands.

We thought she was then gone; and each gave way to a violent burst of
grief.

But soon showing signs of returning life, our attention was again
engaged; and I besought her, when a littl