Except from a sense of lassitude I experienced no unpleasant sensations, and I found myself marveling at the causes that could have consigned me in health to my bed and bed-gown, to my shadowed chamber and the supervision of my faithful nurse, when the sound of suppressed yet numerous footsteps in the hall below met my ear, and the consciousness that something unusual was going on took possession of and quickened my still lethargic faculties.

“What does all this mean, Mrs. Austin?” I asked at last, in a voice feeble as an infant’s, “and what are those steps below?  Why am I so weak, and what are you doing here?  Answer me, I beseech you,” and I clasped my hands piteously.

“Eat your panada, Miriam, and ask no questions,” she said, lifting a bowl from above a spirit-lamp on the chimney-piece, and bearing it toward me.  “Here it is, nice and hot.  The doctor said you were to take it as soon as you awoke.”

I received eagerly the nourishment of which I stood so greatly in need, spiced and seasoned as it was with nutmegs and Madeira wine, and, as I felt new strength return to me with the warmth that coursed through my veins, the memory of all that had passed surged rapidly back, as a suspended wave breaks on the strand, and with the shock I was restored to perfect consciousness.

“I know what it all means now,” I cried.  “Mamma! mamma!  Let me go to my poor mamma!” and before she could arrest my steps I flew to the head of the stairway, dressed as I was in my white bed-gown, and was about to descend, when Dr. Pemberton stopped my progress.

“Go back, Miriam; I must see you a moment before you can go down-stairs,” he said, calmly, and with authority in his voice.  “Nay, believe me, I will not restrain you a moment longer than necessary, if you are obedient now.”

“Do you promise this?” I cried, sobbing bitterly.

“I do,” and he led me gently back to Mrs. Austin, then examined my pulse, my countenance carefully, inquired if I had taken nourishment, gave me a few drops from a vial he afterward left on the table for use, and, signifying his will to Mrs. Austin, went calmly but sorrowfully from the room.

My simple toilet was speedily made.  My dress consisted of a white-cambric gown, I remember, over which Mrs. Austin bound, with some fantastic notion of impromptu mourning, a little scarf of black crepe, passing over one shoulder and below the other, like those worn by the pall-bearers; and, so attired, she took me by the hand and led me, dumb with amazement and grief, through the crowd that surged up the stairs and in the hall and parlors below, into the drawing-room, where, on its tressels, the velvet-covered coffin stood alone and still open, its occupant waiting in marble peace and dumb patience for the last rites of religion and affection to sanctify her repose, ere darkness and solitude should close around her forever.

The spell that had controlled me was rent away, when I saw that sweet and well-beloved aspect once again fixed in a stillness and composure that I knew must be eternal, the tender eyes sealed away from mine forever, the fine sensitive ear dull, expression obliterated!  I flung myself in a passion of grief across the coffin.  I kissed the waxen face and hands a thousand times and bathed them with scalding tears, then stooping down to the dulled ear I whispered: