CHAPTER XXXV.
THE LAST LETTER.
Strong as the death it masters, is the hope
That onward looks to immortality:
Let the frame perish, so the soul survive,
Pure, spiritual, and loving. I believe
The grave exalts, not separates, the ties
That hold us in affection to our kind.
I will look down from yonder pitying sky,
Watching and waiting those I loved on earth
Anxious in heaven, until they too are there.
I will attend your guardian angel's side,
And weep away your faults with holy tears;
Your midnight shall be filled with solemn thought:
And when, at length, death brings you to my love,
Mine the first welcome heard in Paradise.
Norbourne delayed opening the casket till alone in his room; and even then he lingered. There was something exquisitely painful in the memories that crowded upon his mind: a thou-
