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302 ly that the prolonged intrusion of their company would now do her any service. In taking her shawl from the table, Maria made a discovery, that proved more than ever her friend’s state of mind. She found a large prayer book open, in which Florentine had been reading,—and on glancing at the rubric—she saw, “Hymns for the dying, and prayers for the dead.” An ice-cold shuddering shook her frame as she read these words, and the friends parted with tears and sobs, even though their separation was to be for so short a time—almost as if they were never to meet again in this world.

At last, however, the wished-for evening interview drew on,—and the two sisters were delighted to find that Florentine was able to receive them with perfect cheerfulness, as if every painful impression of the morning had been forgotten. “You must excuse all my folly, at your last kind kind [sic] visit,” said she, “for in truth I had been quite worn out by want of sleep, and the constant alarm of that terrible night. Besides, I thought that I was on the very brink of the grave,—I could not banish this apprehension,—therefore, after you had gone, I wrote out my last will and