She dozed nearly all day long, speaking very little and hardly heeding
the questions that were breathed into her ears. The April thaw had set
in and the air was moist and chilly. There was something cloudy and
oppressive in the very atmosphere one breathed, but as the days wore
on the sunshine grew warmer and brighter, and the birds hopping from
twig to twig cleared their little throats and sang forth a merry
greeting to the advancing summer-time.
The sunshine that flooded the world without grew warmer and brighter,
it is true, but the sunshine of hope that gladdens sorrow-stricken
human hearts in hours of wearisome suspense became colder and dimmer
as each new day confirmed the painful fears of Hortense's friends
concerning her ultimate recovery.
The time had at last arrived when death's dreadful warning rested on
every feature of her wasted countenance. We no longer exchanged
cheerful glances of mutual encouragement as we glided in and out of
her chamber. All was solemn and silent as the awful visitor whose
advent was now unmistakably and hopelessly announced.
There were tears, and sobs, and aching hearts that could not plead to
Hope now, for Hope had grown powerless and passive; and so we waited
in sorrow and suspense for the dismal day that was so surely at hand,
praying and watching with our loved one while the flame faintly
flickered with a dying effort within her soul.
May came--the bright, golden month of song and sunshine--and still the
faint flame flickered, leaping up at times with a delusive strength
and activity, then sinking down again until it almost expired forever.
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