such a frame of mind. But it is proper I should tell you all. Rather less
than an hour since, Grace told me that the hour was at hand. She has the
knowledge of her approaching end, though she would not let me send for
you. She said you would have ample time to witness it all. For my father,
however, I have sent, and he must soon be here."

"Almighty Providence! Lucy, do you really think we shall lose Grace so
soon?"

"As it is the will of God to take her from us, Miles, I can scarce repine
that her end should be so easy, and, in all respects, so tranquil."

So long as memory is granted to me, will the picture that Lucy presented
at that moment remain vividly impressed on my mind. She loved Grace as a
most dear sister; loved her as an affectionate, generous-minded, devoted
woman alone can love; and yet, so keenly was she alive to the nature of
the communication it was her duty to make, that concern for me alone
reigned in her saddened and anxious eye. Her mind had schooled itself to
bear its own grief; and meek, believing, and disposed to foresee all that
her profound faith taught her to hope, I do believe she considered my
sister a subject of envy rather than of regret, though her solicitude on
my account was so absorbing. This generous self-denial touched my feelings
in more ways than one, enabling me to command myself to a degree that
might otherwise have been out of my power, during the few succeeding
hours. I felt ashamed to manifest all I endured in the presence of so much
meek but pious fortitude, and that exhibited by one whose heart I so well
knew to be the very seat of the best human affections. The sad smile that
momentarily illuminated Lucy's countenance, as she gazed anxiously in my
face when speaking, was full of submissive hope and Christian faith.