his last breath. Collected, a frightful calmness stilled every turbulent
emotion.

The mother's grief was more audible. Henry had for some time only
attended to Mary--Mary pitied the parent, whose stings of conscience
increased her sorrow; she whispered him, "Thy mother weeps, disregarded
by thee; oh! comfort her!--My mother, thy son blesses thee.--" The
oppressed parent left the room. And Mary _waited_ to see him die.

She pressed with trembling eagerness his parched lips--he opened his
eyes again; the spreading film retired, and love returned them--he gave
a look--it was never forgotten. My Mary, will you be comforted?

Yes, yes, she exclaimed in a firm voice; you go to be happy--I am not a
complete wretch! The words almost choked her.

He was a long time silent; the opiate produced a kind of stupor. At
last, in an agony, he cried, It is dark; I cannot see thee; raise me up.
Where is Mary? did she not say she delighted to support me? let me die
in her arms.

Her arms were opened to receive him; they trembled not. Again he was
obliged to lie down, resting on her: as the agonies increased he leaned
towards her: the soul seemed flying to her, as it escaped out of its
prison. The breathing was interrupted; she heard distinctly the last
sigh--and lifting up to Heaven her eyes, Father, receive his spirit, she
calmly cried.

The attendants gathered round; she moved not, nor heard the clamor; the
hand seemed yet to press hers; it still was warm. A ray of light from