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 were now tinted with that ominous flush, whose brief loveliness Death lends, as a signal of his approaching triumph. Sometimes, it gave to her eye a ray of such unearthly brightness, that the tender-hearted Martha could not gaze on it without a tear. She had remarked with grief to her husband, that the form of the uncomplaining victim was becoming rapidly emaciated, and respiration feeble and laborious, and that all her culinary arts were exerted in vain to stimulate appetite. The invalid gazed long at the moon, with her forehead resting on a hand of purest whiteness, which, partially shaded by the rich curls that hung over it, seemed to display the flexile fingers of childhood. Turning her eyes from the beautiful orb, she observed those of the aged couple bent upon her with in tense earnestness. A long pause ensued. Something, that refused utterance, seemed to agitate her. But they, marking the emotion which varied a countenance usually so serene and passionless, forebore to break the silence lest they should interrupt her musings, and dreaded to hear her speak, lest it should be of separation. At length, a voice tremulous, and musical as the tones of a broken harp, was heard to say—

"Father! you may recollect hearing me mention that I was educated a child of the Church of England. I love her sacred services, though I have long been divided from them. A clergyman of that order lives within a few miles of us. I feel a desire to see him, and once