almost to the last hour.

The progress of this disorder was marked, on the side of Madame St.
Aubert, by patient suffering, and subjected wishes. The composure,
with which she awaited her death, could be derived only from the
retrospect of a life governed, as far as human frailty permits, by a
consciousness of being always in the presence of the Deity, and by
the hope of a higher world. But her piety could not entirely subdue
the grief of parting from those whom she so dearly loved. During
these her last hours, she conversed much with St. Aubert and Emily,
on the prospect of futurity, and on other religious topics. The
resignation she expressed, with the firm hope of meeting in a future
world the friends she left in this, and the effort which sometimes
appeared to conceal her sorrow at this temporary separation,
frequently affected St. Aubert so much as to oblige him to leave the
room. Having indulged his tears awhile, he would dry them and return
to the chamber with a countenance composed by an endeavour which did
but increase his grief.

Never had Emily felt the importance of the lessons, which had taught
her to restrain her sensibility, so much as in these moments, and
never had she practised them with a triumph so complete. But when
the last was over, she sunk at once under the pressure of her sorrow,
and then perceived that it was hope, as well as fortitude, which had
hitherto supported her. St. Aubert was for a time too devoid of
comfort himself to bestow any on his daughter.



CHAPTER II