"
"Do you promise this?" I cried, sobbing bitterly.
"I do," and he led me gently back to Mrs. Austin, then examined my
pulse, my countenance carefully, inquired if I had taken nourishment,
gave me a few drops from a vial he afterward left on the table for use,
and, signifying his will to Mrs. Austin, went calmly but sorrowfully
from the room.
My simple toilet was speedily made. My dress consisted of a
white-cambric gown, I remember, over which Mrs. Austin bound, with some
fantastic notion of impromptu mourning, a little scarf of black _crepe_,
passing over one shoulder and below the other, like those worn by the
pall-bearers; and, so attired, she took me by the hand and led me, dumb
with amazement and grief, through the crowd that surged up the stairs
and in the hall and parlors below, into the drawing-room, where, on its
tressels, the velvet-covered coffin stood alone and still open, its
occupant waiting in marble peace and dumb patience for the last rites of
religion and affection to sanctify her repose, ere darkness and solitude
should close around her forever.
The spell that had controlled me was rent away, when I saw that sweet
and well-beloved aspect once again fixed in a stillness and composure
that I knew must be eternal, the tender eyes sealed away from mine
forever, the fine sensitive ear dull, expression obliterated! I flung
myself in a passion of grief across the coffin.
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