“Happy Clary,” said Juliet, softly approaching the bed.  “Dear blessed girl, who would wish to detain you in this cold miserable world, when heaven offers you a brighter home?”

“You are come to see your poor friend, my Juliet,” said Clary, twining her thin white arms about her neck.  “The sight of you recalls me back to earth, filling my mind with sad thoughts and dark forebodings.  Brother,” she continued, turning to Frederic, “leave us for a few minutes.  I must speak to Juliet Whitmore, for a short space, alone.”

For some seconds the two young creatures remained locked in each other’s arms.  Clary was the first to speak.

“The thoughts of heaven,” she said, “are full of rapture; the recollections of earth, full of anguish and tears.  It is not for myself, Juliet, I weep.  It is for the living I mourn —­for the friends I leave behind.  For me—­I have lived long enough.  It is better for me to go, Juliet; I am dying; will you kiss me once more, and tell me that you forgive your poor little Clary for having dared to love one whose whole heart was given to you, and who was by you beloved again?”

“Was Anthony dear to your gentle heart, Clary?” said Juliet, stooping down, and kissing fervently the cold damp brow of the dying girl.  “Oh, dearer far dearer are you to me, in having thus shared, to its full extent, all the deep sorrow that weighs down my spirit.”

“My love, Juliet, was full of hope and joy, of blissful dreams and visions of peace and happiness.  The storm came suddenly upon me, and the feeble threads that held together my frail existence parted in the conflict.  I am thankful and resigned, and bless the hand that, in mercy, dealt the blow.”  After a few minutes’ silence, she said very solemnly, “Anthony Hurdlestone is accused of having perpetrated a great crime.  Do you, Juliet, believe him guilty?”

“When you believe that yon burning orb of fire is a mass of cold unmeaning ice,” said Juliet, pointing to the sun, “then will I suspect the man I love to be a base unnatural monster, a thief and a parricide.”

“Then you, and you alone, Juliet, are worthy of his love.  And he loves you.  Ah! so truly, so well, that I feel that he is innocent.  A voice from heaven tells me so.  Yes, dearest Juliet, God will yet vindicate his injured servant, and you and Anthony will meet again.”

“In heaven,” said Juliet, weeping.

“On earth,” returned Clary in feebler accents.  “When you see each other, Juliet, tell him that Clary loved him and prayed for him to the last; that dying she blessed him, and believed him innocent.  To you, Juliet, I leave my harp, the friend and companion of my lonely childhood.  When you play the sweet airs I loved so well, think kindly of me.  When you wander by sparkling brooks, and through flowery paths, listening to the song of birds, and the music of forest shades, remember me.  Ah!  I have loved the bright and beautiful things of this glorious earth, and my wish has been granted, that I might pass hence with sunshine about my bed, and the music of Nature’s wild minstrels ringing in my ears.  Sun of earth, farewell.  Friends of earth we shall meet again.  See, heaven opens.  Its one eternal day streams in upon my soul.  Farewell.