For about half an hour, the unexpected arrival of her husband seemed to have given Arabella new life; her voice had become strong and clear; the dimness which had spread over her eyes was removed; even the grey shade which coming dissolution had cast over the face, fled for a short time, and during a few minutes a pale pink glow, like the last which tinges the evening sky, arose in her cheek.
To Seymour those signs gave no hope, for the terrible change which had taken place in her since last he had held her in his arms, had come upon him suddenly, and spoke too plainly of speedy death for him to entertain a doubt.
To Ida Mara, however, the alteration which had taken place, during the last two or three years, in that sweet lady's appearance had been so gradual, that she knew not how great it was; and the signs that she saw of reviving life did give a faint and trembling hope, that the fiat of the Almighty had not gone forth irrevocably.
It was soon extinguished, however; the effects of joy speedily passed away; and, only the more rapidly for the temporary relief, the great enemy of life made progress in his conquest. The voice sank low again, the film came over the eyes, the colour faded from the cheek, the brow and temples grew awfully pale, the greyness of the tomb once more spread over the whole countenance.
"She is departing," said the chaplain, in a low voice.
Arabella's eyes sought her husband's face; but it seemed as if she did not see him.
"William," she said; "William, keep close to me!--It is coming, my beloved, it is coming! do not leave me!"
"I am here, dear one, I am here," replied Seymour, gazing in agony upon her countenance. "My arms are round thee, Arabella. I will not leave thee; would I could go with thee!"
"I am very cold, William," she said. "William,--William----"
Her voice ceased, and, with a slight shudder, the fair, pure spirit passed from its earthly prison and a tyrant's will, to freedom, and the presence of the King of kings.