"Dying!" The young man clasped his hands together with a gesture of
despair.
"How long has she been sick?" he next ventured to ask.
"For months she has been dying daily," said the aunt. There was a
meaning in her tones that the young man fully comprehended. He had
not dreamed of this.
"Can I see her?"
The aunt shook her head, as she answered,
"Let her spirit depart in peace."
"I will not disturb, but calm her spirit," said the young man,
earnestly. "Oh, let me see her, that I may call her back to life!"
"It is too late," replied the aunt. "The oil is exhausted, and light
is just departing."
Edwin started to his feet, exclaiming passionately--"Let me see her!
Let me see her!"
"To see her thus, would be to blow the breath that would extinguish
the flickering light," said the aunt. "Go home, young man! It is too
late! Do not seek to agitate the waters long troubled by your hand,
but now subsiding into calmness. Let her spirit depart in peace."
Florence sunk again into his chair, and, hiding his face with his
hands, sat for some moments in a state of a mental paralysis.
In the chamber above lay the pale, almost pulseless form of Edith.
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