"And Gabriella?"
"Will remain with me."
Mrs. Linwood, whose left arm still encircled me, brought me into her chamber, and closed the door. She was excessively pale, and I mechanically gave her a glass of water. She thanked me; and seating herself at a little table, on which an astral lamp was burning, she began to turn the leaves of a Bible, which always lay there. I observed that her hands trembled and that her lips quivered.
"There is but one fountain which can refresh the fainting spirit," she said, laying her hand on the sacred volume. "It is the fountain of living waters, which, whosoever will, may drink, and receive immortal strength."
She turned the leaves, but there was mist over her vision,—she could not distinguish the well-known characters.
"Read for me, my beloved Gabriella," said she, rising and motioning me to the seat she had quitted. "I was looking for the sixty-second Psalm."
She seated herself in the shadow of the curtain, while I nerved myself for the appointed task. My voice was at first low and tremulous, but as the sound of the words reached my ear, they penetrated my soul, like a strain of solemn music. I felt the divine influence of those breathings of humanity, sanctified by the inspiration of the Deity. I felt the same consciousness of man's insignificance as when I listened to Niagara's eternal roar. And yet, if God cared for us, there was exaltation and glory in the thought.
"Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope thou in God, for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance and my God."
"Go on," said Mrs. Linwood, as I paused on this beautiful and consoling verse; "your voice is sweet, my child, and there is balm in every hallowed word."
I turned to the ninety-first Psalm, which I had so often read to my own dear mother, and which I had long known by heart; then the hundred and sixteenth, which was a favorite of Ernest's. My voice faltered. I thought of him in loneliness and anguish, and my tears blotted the sacred lines. We both remained silent, for the awe of God's spirit was upon us, and the atmosphere made holy by the incense of His breath.