fail: the whole attention of the hapless mother became absorbed; she had removed the covering which shrouded the once intelligent features of her son,—the soul once beaming there—how changed! how faint the resemblance!
In low and plaintive accents she called upon Oriana to look; alas! she could not. The recent observations of the Doctor filled her thoughts; and why, wherefore, in one fatal moment of indiscretion, deprive her mental sight from any longer beholding the saint-like smile, the saint-like image, the countenance her Philimore had presented to her at their last interview—rob herself of that beautiful angelic expression for the contemplation of the present, which would leave its traces equally indelible? During the awful reflection and suspense which succeeded, again the semblance of Philimore passed before her inward sight, again his last words and blessing sounded upon her ear; a seraphic light and meek submission dwelt around him, as he seemed to whisper, "Weep not, my Oriana, I am happy!"
The lovely vision enwrapt her soul. Mrs. Philimore said, "Oriana, look!" Starting at the sound, her every nerve shook, and she feebly uttered, "I cannot!" Mrs. Philimore pressed her lips upon the cold inanimate clay, and again veiling that face, overshadowed by the hues of mortality, in silent anguish led Oriana from the apartment where Philimore in calm composure, his soul returned to its native dwelling-place, ere passion had taught his breast to throb with
