'
St. Aubert looked up silently in her face, as if would have spoken,
but his spirit sunk a while, and his eyes became heavy and dull. She
felt that look at her heart. 'My dear father!' she exclaimed; and
then, checking herself, pressed his hand closer, and hid her face
with her handkerchief. Her tears were concealed, but St. Aubert
heard her convulsive sobs. His spirits returned. 'O my child!' said
he, faintly, 'let my consolations be yours. I die in peace; for I
know, that I am about to return to the bosom of my Father, who will
still be your Father, when I am gone. Always trust in him, my love,
and he will support you in these moments, as he supports me.'
Emily could only listen, and weep; but the extreme composure of his
manner, and the faith and hope he expressed, somewhat soothed her
anguish. Yet, whenever she looked upon his emaciated countenance,
and saw the lines of death beginning to prevail over it--saw his sunk
eyes, still bent on her, and their heavy lids pressing to a close,
there was a pang in her heart, such as defied expression, though it
required filial virtue, like hers, to forbear the attempt.
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