Then taking the same hand with the keeper-ring upon its finger, she placed it in the hand of Malcolm, saying—
“And this, dearest brother of my soul, this is my dying legacy to you!”
She sank back exhausted upon her pillow, while low, half-suppressed sobs broke from those around her. And Malcolm and Eudora each thought how willingly they would give up their mutual love, nay, life itself, to have restored this dying angel to health and joy. And Lady Leaton prayed Heaven that her own life might not outlast that of her beloved child. At length Agatha spoke again.
“When I am gone, my mother will be very desolate—a widow, and childless. Promise me this—dear Eudora, and dearest Malcolm—that you will be a son and daughter to my mother.”
In earnest tones, and amid suffocating sobs, they promised all she required.
A little while longer she held the hands of Malcolm and Eudora united and clasped within her own, and then releasing them, she said—
“Good-night, dearest Malcolm. Go to rest, beloved mother; Eudora will watch with me to-night.”
Lady Leaton stooped, and gathered Agatha for a moment to her bosom, and with a whispered prayer, laid her back upon her pillows. Malcolm bent down, and pressed a kiss upon her brow; and then both withdrew, leaving Eudora upon the watch. And still holding Eudora’s hand, Agatha sank into a peaceful sleep.
Hours passed. The room was so quiet, the sleep of the patient was so calm, and the position of the watcher so easy within her lounging-chair that Eudora, overcome with fatigue of many nights’ vigil, could scarcely keep her eyes open.
Once, indeed, she must have lost herself in a momentary slumber, for she dreamed that a women in dark raiment, with her head wrapped in a dark veil, glided across the chamber, and disappeared within her own little room; but when she aroused herself, and looked around, and walked into the adjoining room to examine it, there was no one to be seen.