s; it makes him wild; he raves
to get between the hearts and tear them so that the sanctified temples
shall have no incense in them--nothing save the heavy odours of carrion.
My lady Lillah one day felt a drowsiness come over her; it seemed, as
Christy said, she felt only as if she had been inclined to sleep at an
unusual time; she made no complaint, but Mr. Bernard observed something
in her eye, and his watchfulness took alarm at every turn of her quiet
manner. The drowsiness increased, and then it was observed that her
pulse was slow and languid; it seemed to beat with fewer pulses every
hour, and then master became more alarmed, and Amelia could not be away
from her an instant. 'Twas strange the change which all of a sudden took
place in Miss Temple; the gay laugh which Mr. Bernard used to encourage
as a welcome light thrown on the soul of his wife was no more heard; a
pitiful sympathy took its place, and, as Christy described it, looked
like the light which we see so beautiful in the thin haze when the sun
seems to melt all through it; it was the spirit of love, sir, dissolved
in the shadows of grief. She hung over our dear lady as if she would
have poured her own spirit into her to raise the still ebbing pulses.
Nothing would stop that ebbing; the pulse would beat a little stronger
after something given to her, but never quicker. Then these long silken
eyelashes fell farther and farther down, and the voice which had ever
been all meekness, fell and fell into half whispers. At length she said
something into master's ear; and he motioned to Miss Temple to go out
for a little, but Christy remained. It was an awful moment, sir, when
she made a sign that she would speak. 'Dear Edward,' she said, as she
seemed to try to lift higher the drooping lids, 'I will never more see
the beautiful valley of the Kabarda, where stands my father's castle,
with its gardens and roses of Shiraz. Oh, strange it seems to me, as all
the things about me grow dim, the vision of those beloved scenes of my
childhood wax brighter and brighter. I hear my father's voice crying
Euphrosyne, and my mother's Lillah; my brothers and sisters take up the
cry, and the mountaineers salute the favourite daughter of their chief.
But she is here in this far land, and you, my best beloved, are there
before her. Edward, I am going to die--soon--soon. I wished the dear
Amelia away for a little--only a little--to be here again, and never to
go more. She is faithful