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14 another, gave their hoarded sweetness to the evening wind. But Mr. Dalton grew impatient for her return to the house; and she could not say to him, "What does it matter to me? the chill air is of little moment now; I feel that my hours are numbered, and that no human care can avail to prolong their amount." Still she rose at his first word, and was at once carried to the dressing-room.

As soon as she was recovered from the fatigue of moving, she begged to be placed near the window. The warmer hues of the sun-set had faded into one deep, rich, purple. Only on the furthest verge of the horizon floated a few white clouds, on which the crimson lingered to the last, all below was tranquil, as in that stillness which precedes sleep. Not a leaf stirred on the tree, and the evening song of the birds had ceased. The colours of the variegated shrubbery were growing more and more indistinct, and the grass of the meadow had already caught the shadow of might. Now and then a low whirring sound was heard upon the air, and, borne on its dim and