As I gazed upon her dead face, where the parting soul had left its
sign of peace, I prayed that, when I passed from my labors, there
might be as few stains of earth upon my garments.
"Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord, Yea, saith the Spirit, for
they rest from their labors, and their works do follow them."
I found myself repeating these holy words, as I stood looking at the
white, shrunken features of the departed.
It was not until the next day that I saw Blanche. But Constance was
with her immediately after the sad news jarred upon her sympathizing
heart.
"How did you leave her?" was my anxious query, on meeting my wife at
home.
"Calm," was the brief answer.
How much the word included!
"Did you talk with her?"
"Not a great deal; she did not seem inclined to talk, like some who
seek relief through expression. I found her alone in the room next
to the one in which the body of her mother was lying. She was
sitting by a table, with one hand pressed over her eyes, as I
entered. 'Oh, my friend! my dear friend!' she said, in a tone of
grief, rising and coming a step or two to meet me.
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