Catherine bent and kissed the pallid lips of the dying woman, and then her voice arose, sweet, clear and spiritual as angels’ songs, in that immortal requiem—
“Vital spark of heavenly flame,
Quit, oh! quit this mortal frame;
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying,
Oh! the pain, the bliss of dying—
Hark! they whisper, angels say—
Sister spirit, come away—
At the end of the first stanza, she murmured, faintly—
“Your voice, too, dear Archer.”
His voice arose now in unison with Catherine’s, and they sang the remainder—