"And you love me? I was sure of it to-night. That was my chiefest glory. Lacking that, what would the homage of all the world be to Rachael Closs? I was thinking this, when that seemed to start up before me, and whispering to myself, 'He loves me! he loves me! he loves me!' like a young girl; for I have seemed very young to-night. Why not? A glorious life lies before us. You will now step more fearlessly forward, and take your place among the great men of the earth,—while I—I will be anything; charm stones, work miracles, to win popularity and lay it at your feet.
"Say that you love me once more, Norton, and then I will creep back to my pillow, the proudest and happiest woman on earth—for, after all, it was only a picture!"
Rachael Closs had hardly done speaking when a cry of distress rang through the neighboring corridor, the door of Lord Hope's chamber was flung open, and a pallid face looked in.
"Come—come at once! My lady is dying!"
Round to other rooms came that cry of terror, arousing those two girls—the one from her sleep, the other from her mournful vigil—and drawing the family together, in pale groups, into the tower-chamber.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
DEATH IN THE TOWER-CHAMBER.
The old countess was not dying, but dead. Hannah Yates, who had watched her faithfully, did not know when the last faint breath left her lips; but she became conscious of a solemn stillness which settled upon the room, and bending forward, saw that soft gray shadows had crept over that gentle face, up to the hair of silky snow, and down to the slender throat, till it was lost in the purple splendor of that festive robe.
There she lay, tranquil as a sleeping child, with a calm, holy smile breaking through the shadows, and her little hands meekly folded over the gossamer lace on her bosom.
Upon a marble table close by lay the jewels she had worn—a glittering and neglected heap of fire, which gave out more light than the shaded lamps that threw their beams brightly on them, and shed tender moonlight on that lovely old face.