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Show 114 UXCU; TO~r 's CADIN : OR, CHAPTER XXVII. "TillS IS TilE LAST OF EARTU."-John Q . .Arlam1. THE statuettes and pictures in Eva's room were shrouded in white napkins, and only hushed breathiugs and muillod foot-falls were heard •thoro, and tho light stole in solemnly through windows partially darkened by closed blinds. Tho bed was draped in white; and thoro, beneath tho drooping angel-figure, lay a. little sleeping form,- sleeping never to waken ! There she lay, robed in one of the simple white dresses she had been wont to wear when living; tho rose-colored light through tho curtains cast over tho icy coldness of death a warm glow. 1'he heavy eyelashes drooped softly on the pure cheek ; the head was turned a little to ono side, as if in natural sleep, but there was diffused over every lineament of the face that high celestial expression, that mingling of rapture and repose, which showed it was no earthly or temporary sleep, but the long, sacred rest which "He giveth to his beloved." There is no death to such as thou, dear Eva! neither clarkness nor shadow of death; only such a bright filding as when tho morning stru· fades in tho golden dawn. Thine is tho victory without the battle,- the crown without the conflict. So did St. Claro think, as, with folded arms, he stood there gazing. Ah! who shall say what he diu think? for, frolll the hour that voices had sa.id, in the dying chamber, 11 she is I.lFE AMO~G 1'UE LOWLY. 115 gone," it had been all a drcnry mist, a lJCavy ''dimness of anguish." He had hcanl voices around him; he had had questions asked, and answered them; they had asked him when he would have tho funeral, and whore they should lay her; and he had answered, imp.ticntly, that he C:Irorl not. Adolph and Rosa had arranged the chamber; volatile, fickle and childish, as they generally were, they were softhearted and full of feeling; and, while Miss Ophelia presided over the general details of order and neatness, it was their hands that added those soft, poetic touches to the arrangements, that took from the death-room tho grim and ghastly air ,.,..hich too often ma.rks a New England funeral. ~rhcrc were stnl flowers on the shelves,- all white, delicate and fragrant, with graceful, drooping leaves. Eva's li ttle table, covered with white, bore on it her favorite vase, with a single white moss rose-bud in it. The folds of the drapo1·y, the fall of tho curtains, had boon arranged and rearranged, by Adolph and Rosa, with that nicety of eye which characterizes their race. Even now, while St. Clare stood there thinking, little Rosa tripped softly into the chamher with a basket of white flowers. She stopped back when she saw St. Clare, and stollped respectfully; but, seeing that he did not observe her, she came forward to place them around the dead. St. Clare saw her as jn a dream, while she place<l jn the smaJI hands a fair cape jessamine, and, with admirable taste, disposed other flowers around the couch. 'The door opened agaln, and Topsy, her eyes swelled wWt crying, appeared, holding something under her apron. Rosa made a quick, forbidding gesture; but she took a step into the room. "You must go out," said Rosa, in a sbarp1 positive whisper j " yo1t h;tvc u't any business here ! " |