take one from dear Lucy," added my sister, a painful-looking smile
illuminating that angelic expression of countenance to which I have so
often alluded; "or, as that of a sister. _You_ would not refuse such a
thing to Lucy's dying request, and why should Rupert to mine?"

Poor Grace! Little did she see the immense difference there was in my
relation to Lucy and that which Rupert bore to her. I could not explain
this difference, however, but merely assented to her wishes, renewing, for
the fourth or fifth time, my pledges of performing with fidelity all she
asked at my hands. Grace then put into my hands an unsealed letter
addressed to Rupert, which she desired me to read when alone, and which I
was to have delivered with the legacy or donation of money.

"Let me rest once more on your bosom, Miles," said Grace, reclining her
head in my arms, quite exhausted under the reaction of the excitement she
had felt while urging her request. "I feel happier, at this moment, than I
have been for a long time; yet, my increasing weakness admonishes me it
cannot last long. Miles, darling, you must remember all our sainted mother
taught you in childhood, and you will not mourn over my loss. Could I
leave you united to one who understood and appreciated your worth, I
should die contented. But you will be left alone, poor Miles; for a time,
at least, you will mourn for me."

"Forever--long as life lasts, beloved Grace," I murmured, almost in her
ear.

Exhaustion kept my sister quiet for a quarter of an hour, though I felt
an occasional pressure of her hands, both of which held one of mine; and I
could hear words asking blessings and consolation for me, whispered, from
time to time, in heartfelt petitions to heaven. As she gained strength by