Aubrey was subscribing his name to a
letter, and, with a little earnestness, said--"Come, my friend, let us
return to your mother; methinks she is on the eve of some decisive
change: the issue is with God!" Within a very few moments they were both
at the bedside of Mrs. Aubrey. A large chamber-lamp, standing on a table
at the farther end of the room, diffused a soft light, rendering visible
at a glance the silent and sad group collected round the bed, all with
their eyes directed towards the venerable figure who lay upon it. Mr.
Aubrey sat beside his wife close to his mother; and taking her white
emaciated hand into his own, gently raised it to his lips. She seemed
dozing: but his action appeared to rouse her for a moment. Presently she
fixed her eye upon him--its expression, the while, slowly but
perceptibly changing, and exciting strange feelings within him. He
trembled, and removed not his eye from hers. He turned very pale--for
the whole expression of his mother's countenance, which was turned full
towards him, was changing. Through the clouded windows of the falling
fabric, behold! its long-imprisoned tenant, THE SOUL, had arisen from
its torpor, and was looking at him. Reason was re-appearing. It was,
indeed, his mother, and _in her right mind_, that was gazing at him. He
scarcely breathed. At length surprise and apprehension yielded before a
gush of tenderness and love. With what an unutterable look was his
mother at that moment regarding him! His lip quivered--his eye
overflowed--and, as he felt her fingers very gently compressing his own,
his tears fell down. Gently leaning forward, he kissed her cheek, and
sank on one knee beside the bed.

"Is it you, my son?" said she, in a very low tone, but in _her own_
voice, and it stirred up instantly a thousand fond recollections, almost
overpowering him. He kissed her hand with fervent energy, but spoke not.
She continued gazing at him with mingled solemnity and fondness. Her eye
seemed brightening as it remained fixed upon him. Again she spoke, in a
very low but clear voice--every thrilling word being heard by all around
her: "Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken,
or the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the
cistern,--Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was; and the
spirit shall return unto God who gave it." It would be in vain to
attempt to describe the manner in which these words were spoken; and
which fel