auty in
age. It would never be seen again. Near the bed Alphonse was seated,
holding the hand of his dead wife, his other hand up to his face. He
looked the picture of sad despair. The aged form, so recently still
endowed with life and vigour, was now bent and bowed under the weight of
sorrow.

As we entered he glanced up, and stronger than all the evident grief we
were surprised to see an unmistakable look of resignation. Quietly
placing the cold hand that never would move or clasp his own again, he
rose and came towards us.

"Oh, senor, this is kind. You come to me in my loneliness. It is all
over. The sightless eyes are closed, the beautiful voice is still. I
have often prayed that I might be the last to be taken. Heaven is
merciful, and has answered me. As the dawn broke in the east her spirit
went. Raising her hand as though pointing to some unseen vision:
'Alphonse,' she said, 'I am called. You will soon join me, beloved.'
Then a glory seemed to pass over her face, and she was gone. Senor, come
near and look upon that beautiful face once more."

He approached the bed and with reverent hand drew down the sheet.

We were almost startled by the beauty disclosed. The face seemed to have
gone back to the days of its youth; it might have been that of a young
woman of surpassing loveliness. The rapt expression the old man had
spoken of was still there. It was impossible but that some divine vision
had been seen at the last by those eyes closed to mortal things. It
spoke of intense happiness, of a joy that was to be eternal.

"Alphonse, how can you look upon that face, which has the divine image
upon it and the divine glory, and be sad?"

"Senor, I have lost my all. I am very lonely. Yesterday I was rich; I
knew not how rich; to-day I am poor and stricken. Yet I am resigned; and
I am happy in the thought that in a few days--I verily believe in a few
days--my body will rest with hers in one grave, and our spirits will be
united in Paradise. I am not sad; only intensely lonely. Senor, you gave
her almost her very last pleasure. After you had left, she said that for
years our little room had not seemed so bright. You brought her a breath
from her old world and she declared that she felt her youth renewed. Was
it not the spirit telling her in advance how soon her youth should
indeed return to her? Oh, Nerissa, my life's joy, my best beloved, in
what realms is your pure spirit now wandering? Surely you need me to
perfec