Her sweet voice and broken periods methinks still fill my ears, and never will be out of my memory.

After a short silence, in a more broken and faint accent—­And you, Mr. Belford, pressing my hand, may God preserve you, and make you sensible of all your errors—­you see, in me, how all ends—­may you be—­And down sunk her head upon her pillow, she fainting away, and drawing from us her hands.

We thought she was then gone; and each gave way to a violent burst of grief.

But soon showing signs of returning life, our attention was again engaged; and I besought her, when a little recovered, to complete in my favour her half-pronounced blessing.  She waved her hand to us both, and bowed her head six several times, as we have since recollected, as if distinguishing every person present; not forgetting the nurse and the maid-servant; the latter having approached the bed, weeping, as if crowding in for the divine lady’s blessing; and she spoke faltering and inwardly—­Bless—­bless—­bless—­you all—­and—­now—­and now—­[holding up her almost lifeless hands for the last time] come—­O come—­blessed Lord —­Jesus!

And with these words, the last but half-pronounced, expired:—­such a smile, such a charming serenity overspreading her sweet face at the instant, as seemed to manifest her eternal happiness already begun.

O Lovelace!—­But I can write no more!

***

I resume my pen to add a few lines.

While warm, though pulseless, we pressed each her hand with our lips; and then retired into the next room.

We looked at each other, with intent to speak:  but, as if one motion governed, as one cause affected both, we turned away silent.

The Colonel sighed as if his heart would burst:  at last, his face and hands uplifted, his back towards me, Good Heaven! said he to himself, support me!—­And is it thus, O flower of nature!—­Then pausing—­And must we no more—­never more!—­My blessed, blessed Cousin! uttering some other words, which his sighs made inarticulate.—­And then, as if recollecting himself—­Forgive me, Sir!—­Excuse me, Mr. Belford!  And sliding by me, Anon I hope to see you, Sir—­And down stairs he went, and out of the house, leaving me a statue.

When I recovered, I was ready to repine at what I then called an unequal dispensation; forgetting her happy preparation, and still happier departure; and that she had but drawn a common lot; triumphing in it, and leaving behind her every one less assured of happiness, though equally certain that the lot would one day be their own.

She departed exactly at forty minutes after six o’clock, as by her watch on the table.

And thus died Miss Clarissa Harlowe, in the blossom of her youth and beauty:  and who, her tender years considered, had not left behind her her superior in extensive knowledge and watchful prudence; nor hardly her equal for unblemished virtue, exemplary piety, sweetness of manners, discreet generosity, and true christian charity:  and these all set off by the most graceful modesty and humility; yet on all proper occasions, manifesting a noble presence of mind, and true magnanimity:  so that she may be said to have been not only an ornament to her sex, but to human nature.