"In our land joy wears no shroud,
Never doth it pall."
Clayton,—what did he? What could he do? What have any of us done, who have sat holding in our arms a dear form, from which the soul was passing—the soul for which gladly we would have given our own in exchange! When we have felt it going with inconceivable rapidity from us; and we, ignorant and blind, vainly striving, with this and that, to arrest the inevitable doom, feeling every moment that some other thing might be done to save, which is not done, and that that which we are doing may be only hastening the course of the destroyer! Oh, those awful, agonized moments, when we watch the clock, and no physician comes, and every stroke of the pendulum is like the approaching step of death! Oh, is there anything in heaven or earth for the despair of such hours?
Not a moment was lost by the three around that dying bed, chafing those cold limbs, administering the stimulants which the dead, exhausted system no longer felt.
"She doesn't suffer! Thank God, at any rate, for that!" said Clayton, as he knelt over her in anguish.
A beautiful smile passed over her face, as she opened her eyes and looked on them all, and said,—
"No, my poor friends, I don't suffer. I'm come to the land where they never suffer. I'm only so sorry for you! Edward," she said to him, "do you remember what you said to me once?—It has come now. You must bear it like a man. God calls you to some work—don't shrink from it. You are baptized with fire. It all lasts only a little while. It will be over soon, very soon! Edward, take care of my poor people. Tell Tom to be kind to them. My poor, faithful, good Harry! Oh! I'm going so fast!"
The voice sunk into a whispering sigh. Life now seemed to have retreated to the citadel of the brain. She lay apparently in the last sleep, when the footsteps of the doctor were heard on the veranda. There was a general spring to the door, and Dr. Butler entered, pale, haggard, and worn, from constant exertion and loss of rest.
He did not say in words that there was no hope, but his first dejected look said it but too plainly.
She moved her head a little, like one who is asleep uneasily upon her pillow, opened her eyes once more, and said,—