' was the widow's answer.

'Poor young man! indeed I pity him!' sighed her visitor. 'You have
hitherto used no efforts to persuade him to take such a step,--Mrs.
Harrington?'

'I have written to Mr. Goren, who was my husband's fellow-apprentice
in London, my lady; and he is willing to instruct him in cutting, and
measuring, and keeping accounts.'

Certain words in this speech were obnoxious to the fine ear of Lady
Racial, and she relinquished the subject.

'Your husband, Mrs. Harrington--I should so much have wished!--he did
not pass away in--in pain!'

'He died very calmly, my lady.'

'It is so terrible, so disfiguring, sometimes. One dreads to see!--one
can hardly distinguish! I have known cases where death was dreadful!
But a peaceful death is very beautiful! There is nothing shocking to the
mind. It suggests heaven! It seems a fulfilment of our prayers!'

'Would your ladyship like to look upon him?' said the widow.

Lady Racial betrayed a sudden gleam at having her desire thus
intuitively fathomed.

'For one moment, Mrs. Harrington! We esteemed him so much! May I?'

The widow responded by opening the door, and leading her into the
chamber where the dead man lay.

At that period, when threats of invasion had formerly stirred up the
military fire of us Islanders, the great Mel, as if to show the great
Napoleon what character of being a British shopkeeper really was, had,
by remarkable favour, obtained a lieutenancy of militia dragoons: in the
uniform of which he had revelled, and perhaps, for the only time in his
life, felt that circumstances had suited him with a perfect fit. However
that may be, his solemn final commands to his wife, Henrietta Maria, on
whom he could count for absolute obedience in such matters, had been,
that as soon as the breath had left his body, he should be taken from
his bed, washed, perfumed, powdered, and in that uniform dressed and
laid out; with directions that he should be so buried at the expiration
of three days, that havoc in his features might be hidden from men. In
this array Lady Racial beheld him. The curtains of the bed were drawn
aside. The beams of evening fell soft through the blinds of the room,
and cast a subdued light on the figure of the vanquished warrior.
The Presence, dumb now for evermore, was sadly illumined for its last
exhibition. But one who looked closely might have seen that Time had
somewhat spoiled that perfect fit which had aforetime been his prid