Chapter 7

"And the beautiful, whose record
Is the verse that cannot die,
They too are gone, with their glorious bloom,
From the love of human eye."

Mrs. Hemans.

I cannot dwell minutely on the events of the week that succeeded. Grace
sunk daily, hourly; and the medical advice that was obtained, more as a
duty than with any hope of its benefiting the patient, failed of assisting
her. Mr. Hardinge saw the invalid often, and I was admitted to her room
each day, where she would lie, reclining on my bosom for hours at a time,
seemingly fond of this innocent indulgence of her affections, on the eve
of her final departure. As it was out of the question that my sister
should again visit the family room, the _causeuse_ was brought into her
chamber, where it was made to perform the office to which it had been
several times devoted in its proper apartment since my return from sea.
That venerable chair still exists, and I often pass thoughtful hours in it
in my old age, musing on the past, and recalling the different scenes and
conversations of which it could tell, did it possess consciousness and the
faculty of speech.

Mr. Hardinge officiated in his own church, agreeably to his intention, on
the succeeding Sunday. Lucy remained with her friend; and I make no doubt
their spirits devoutly communed with ours the while; for I mastered
sufficient fortitude to be present at St. Michael's. I could observe an
earnest sympathy in every member of the little congregation; and tears
fell from nearly every eye when the prayer for the sick was read. Mr.
Hardinge remained at the rectory for the further duties of the day; but I
rode home immediately after morning service, too uneasy to remain absent
from the house longer than was necessary, at such a moment. As my horse
trotted slowly homeward, he overtook Neb, who was walking towards
Clawbonny, with an air so different from his customary manner, I could not
help remarking it. Neb was a muscular, active black, and usually walked as
if his legs were all springs; but he moved along now so heavily, that I
could not but see some weight upon the spirits had produced this influence
on the body. The change was, naturally enough, attributed to the state of
affairs with Chloe; and I felt disposed to say a word to my faithful
slave, who had been unavoidably overlooked in the pressure of sorrow that
had weighed me down for the last ten days. I spoke to the poor fellow as
cheerfully as I could, as I came up, and endeavoured to touch on such
subjects as I thought might interest without troubling him.

"This is a famous windfall that has crossed Mr. Marble's track, Neb," I
said, pulling up, in order to go a short distance at an even pace with my
brother-tar. "As