he breathed. My tears were
uncontrollable, and they seemed to perplex rather that distress her. Of a
sudden, we heard her voice aloud, speaking gently, but with a fervour that
rendered it distinct. The words she uttered were full of the undying
affection of a heart that never turned away from me for a single instant;
no, not even in the petulance of childhood. "Almighty Father," she said,
"look down from thy mercy-seat on this dear brother--keep him for thyself;
and, in thy good time, call him, through the Saviour's love, to thy
mansions of bliss."

These were the last words that Grace Wallingford ever spoke. She lived ten
minutes longer; and she died on my bosom like the infant that breathes its
last in the arms of its mother. Her lips moved several times; once I
fancied I caught the name of "Lucy," though I have reason to think she
prayed for us all, Rupert included, down to the moment she ceased
to exist.

Chapter VIII.

"There have been sweet singing voices
In your walks that now are still;
There are seats left void, in your earthly homes,
Which none again may fill."

Mrs. Hemans.

I never saw the body of my sister, after I handed it, resembling a
sleeping infant, to the arms of Lucy. There is a sort of mania in some, a
morbid curiosity, to gaze on the features of the dead; but, with me, it
has ever been the reverse. I had been taken to the family room to
contemplate and weep over the faces of both my parents, but this was at an
age when it became me to be passive. I was now at a time of life when I
might be permitted to judge for myself; and, as soon as I began to think
at all on the subject, which was not for some hours, however, I resolved
that the last look of love, the sweet countenance, sinking in death it is
true, but still animate and beaming with the sentiments of her pure heart,
should be the abiding impression of my sister's form. I have cherished it
ever since, and often have I rejoiced that I did not permit any subsequent
images of a corpse to supplant it. As respects both my parents, the images
left on my mind, for years and years, was painful rather than pleasing.

Grace's body was no sooner out of my arms, I had scarcely imprinted the
last long kiss on the ivory-like but still warm forehead, than I left the
house. Clawbonny had no impertinent eyes to drive a mourner to his closet,
and I felt as if it were impossible to breathe unless I could obtain the
freedom of the open