Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. Firmly built, as it was, the bridge creaked in such a manner with their contending efforts, that Abraham durst not venture beyond the door, where he stood, holding the light, a horrified spectator of the scene. She was surprised to find how stored her mind was with impressions and memories of him, how vividly she remembered his gestures and little things that he had said. ‘And this is not all,’ went on the lady, evidently determined to disclose all her wrongs. “Good-bye, John,” she said simply.
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