"Her head fell on Charles's shoulder; a strange sound was heard, such as comes from human mouth but once—it was the death-rattle, and a corpse lay heavily on his bosom.
"'Mistress has wanted nothing, I hope?' said an old woman, opening the door gently; one look told her that her mistress would never know earthly want again.
"Disuniter of all affection—awful seal to life's nothingness—warning and witness of power and judgment—Death has always enow of terror and sorrow, even when there are many to comfort the mourner, when the path has been smoothed for the sufferer, and life offers all its best and brightest to soothe the survivor; even then, its tears are the bitterest the eye can ever shed, and its misery the deepest heart can ever know. But what must it be when poverty has denied solace even to the few wants of sickness; and when the grave, in closing, closes on the only being there was to love us in the cold wide world?
"Charles Seymour stood by while the old woman laid out the body, and paused in her grief to admire so beautiful a corpse. He had to let his little sinter sleep in his arms, for their mother was laid out on their only bed; he had to order the coffin in which himself placed the body; their short and scant meals were taken in presence of the dead; he heard them drive the nails in the coffin, be stood alone by the grave, and wept his first tears when he reflected that he had not wherewithal to pay for even a stone to mark the spot.
"He went home to meet a talkative broker, who came to buy their two or three articles of furniture; and he leant by the window, in a room empty of every thing, but a little bed for his sister, who had crept to his side, with that expression of fear and wonder so painful to witness on the face of a child; and Charles Seymour was but just sixteen.
