and breathe with perfect ease; then the paroxysms would come on more violent than ever.  Beulah knelt on the floor, with her forehead resting on the arm of the chair, and her hands still grasped in the firm hold of the dying girl.  Time seemed to stand still to watch the issue, for moments were long as hours to the few friends of the sufferer.  Beulah felt as if her heart were leaden, and a band of burning iron seemed drawn about her brow.  Was this painful parting to be indeed eternal?  Was there no future home for the dead of this world?  Should the bands of love and friendship, thus rudely severed, be renewed no more?  Was there no land where the broken links might be gathered up again?  What did philosophy say of these grim hours of struggle and separation?  Nothing—­absolutely nothing!  Was she to see her sister no more?  Was a moldering mass of dust all that remained of the darling dead—­the beautiful angel Lilly, whom she had so idolized?  Oh! was life, then, a great mockery, and the soul, with its noble aims and impulses, but a delicate machine of matter?  Her brain was in a wild, maddening whirl; she could not weep; her eyes were dry and burning.  Cornelia moved an instant, and murmured audibly: 

“‘For here we have no continuing city, but seek one to come.’  Ah! what is its name? that ‘continuing city’!  Necropolis?” Again she remained for some time speechless.

Dr. Hartwell softly wiped away the glistening drops on her brow, and, opening her eyes, she looked up at him intently.  It was an imploring gaze, which mutely said:  “Can’t you help me?” He leaned over, and answered it, sadly enough: 

“Courage, Cornelia!  It will very soon be over now.  The worst is past, my friend.”

“Yes; I know.  There is a chill creeping over me.  Where is Eugene?”

He came and stood near her; his face full of anguish, which could not vent itself in tears.  Her features became convulsed as she looked at him; a wailing cry broke from her lips; and, extending her arms toward him, she said sobbingly: 

“Shall I see you no more—­no more?  Oh, Eugene, my brother, my pride, my dearest hope! whom I have loved better than my own life, are we now parted forever—­forever!”

He laid her head on his bosom, and endeavored to soothe her; but, clinging to him, she said huskily: 

“Eugene, with my last breath I implore you; forsake your intemperate companions.  Shun them and their haunts.  Let me die feeling that at least my dying prayer will save you!  Oh, when I am gone; when I am silent in the graveyard, remember how the thought of your intemperance tortured me!  Remember how I remonstrated and entreated you not to ruin yourself!  Remember that I loved you above everything on earth; and that, in my last hour, I prayed you to save yourself!  Oh, Eugene, for my sake! for my sake! quit the wine-cup, and leave drunkenness for others more degraded!—­Promise me!—­Where are you?—­ Oh, it is all cold and dark!—­I can’t see you!—­Eugene, promise! promise!—­Eugene—­”