She begged him to say how long he thought she might live;--not to
fear speaking the truth, for she was not afraid to die. The
doctor reluctantly admitted that the angel of death was already
arrived, and that life was ebbing fast. She thanked him for his
truthfulness, and he departed to come again very soon. She still
occupied her easy chair, looking so serene, so reliant there was
no opening for grief as yet, though all knew the separation was
at hand. She clasped her hands, and reverently invoked a blessing
from on high; first upon her sister, then upon her friend, to
whom she said, 'Be a sister in my stead. Give Charlotte as much
of your company as you can.' She then thanked each for her
kindness and attention.

"Ere long the restlessness of approaching death appeared, and she
was borne to the sofa; on being asked if she were easier, she
looked gratefully at her questioner, and said, 'It is not YOU who
can give me ease, but soon all will be well, through the merits
of our Redeemer.' Shortly after this, seeing that her sister
could hardly restrain her grief, she said, 'Take courage,
Charlotte; take courage.' Her faith never failed, and her eye
never dimmed till about two o'clock, when she calmly and without
a sigh passed from the temporal to the eternal. So still, and so
hallowed were her last hours and moments. There was no thought of
assistance or of dread. The doctor came and went two or three
times. The hostess knew that death was near, yet so little was
the house disturbed by the presence of the dying, and the sorrow
of those so nearly bereaved, that dinner was announced as ready,
through the half-opened door, as the living sister was closing
the eyes of the dead one. She could now no more stay the
welled-up grief of her sister with her emphatic and dying 'Take