“’Twas the grave of my father,” said Hildebrand.
“So I divined,” continued Inez. “At night, as thou hadst not returned, methought I would go forth to meet thee, in my own proper attire. Thou wilt remember, thou didst see me that night, at thy father’s grave.”
“I took thee for a spirit,” said Hildebrand; “and, on after-thought, considered thee a mere imagination.”
“I saw that that was thy thought,” pursued Inez, “and, in the darkness, availed myself thereof, before thou couldst recover, to get clear away. I reached my chamber unperceived; but, at thy father’s grave, other fancies had come upon me, and I chose rather to dwell on them, than to go straight into thy presence. Those fancies led me, on closer reflection, to make peace with mine own bosom, and so be at peace with God.”
She had all along spoken with difficulty, and in a low tone; but her last words, which had conveyed to her lover such a gratifying intimation, seemed to have expended her last effort, and she now sank panting on her pillow. She lay thus for some time; but gradually, though by very slow degrees, she became less ruffled, and respired freely. But she continued perfectly still; and, whether because she was uncollected, or had nothing further to say, made no attempt to speak again.
Hildebrand, no way impatient, remained standing by her side, gazing anxiously in her face. Hour by hour did he thus watch her, with his heart, and soul, and all his hopes of fruition, now devoted entirely to her, locked and centred in his gaze.
It was the afternoon, and the sun, arrayed in the pride and glory of summer, poured a stream of rays through the skylight, right on to the sufferer’s face. Thinking that the light might annoy her, Hildebrand was about to draw the curtain over the berth; but before he could accomplish his purpose, she caught at his hand, and clasped it in hers.
Her hand, which was so white and lovely to the eye, was cold as ice, and felt like the touch of death. Hildebrand was unmanned.
“My love! my Hildebrand, prithee do not weep!” said Inez, in faltering accents, and fixing her lustrous eyes on his. “I would bid thee farewell!”
Hildebrand, with a bursting heart, leaned over her pillow, and pressed his lips to hers.