last
lines his hand ever traced. 'What a joy, my own dear darling, your
letter gave me! What a happiness to me to know that you are
well! . . . As this letter requires no answer, it will be but a short
one. What a comfort it is not to have to answer! . . . God bless you
all, and keep you well! Oh, were I but amongst you all again! I kiss
you with all my heart and soul, my dearest one! Preserve all your love
for me, and think with pleasure on him who loves thee above all, thy
Karl.' What an outpouring of the truest affection there was in that
last loving prayer!

"Weber's only thoughts were now concentrated on his journey, and he
even reproached Fuerstenau with caballing with the others to prevent his
undertaking it. 'You may do what you will, it is of no avail,' he
said. On the evening of the 3d of June he asked his friend Goeschen,
with a smile, 'Have you anything to say to your father? At all events
I shall tell him that his son has been a dear kind friend to me in
London.' 'But you leave many friends and admirers here,' said Goeschen.
'Hush! hush!' replied Weber, still smiling softly; 'that's not the same
thing, you know.' When, on the evening of the 4th, he sat panting in
his easy chair, with Sir George Smart, Goeschen, Fuerstenau, and
Moscheles grouped around him, he could speak only of his journey. At
ten o'clock they urged him to retire to bed. But he firmly declined to
have any one watch by his bedside, and even to forego his custom of
barring his chamber door. When he had given his white, transparent,
trembling hand to all, murmuring gently, but in earnest tones, the
words, 'God reward you all for your kind love to me!' he was led by Sir
George Smart and Fuerstenau into his bedroom. Fuerstenau, from whom
alone he would accept such services, helped him to undress; the effort
was a painful one to himself. With his own hand, however, Weber wound
up his watch, with his usual punctilious care; then, with all that
charm of amiability for which he was conspicuous through life, he
murmured his thanks to his friend, and said, 'Now let me sleep.' These
were the last words that mortal ear heard the great artist utter. It
is clear, however, that Weber must have left his bed later, for, the
next morning, the door through which Fuerstenau had passed, was barred.
For a long time the friends sat together in Sir George Smart's room,
filled with sorrowful presentiments, and earnestly consulting what
means