last office that could now be paid her. For her I could not lament, so much

I envied her enjoyment of "the sad immunities of the grave."

The vault had been lately opened to place our Alfred therein. The ceremony

customary in these latter days had been cursorily performed, and the

pavement of the chapel, which was its entrance, having been removed, had

not been replaced. I descended the steps, and walked through the long

passage to the large vault which contained the kindred dust of my Idris. I

distinguished the small coffin of my babe. With hasty, trembling hands I

constructed a bier beside it, spreading it with the furs and Indian shawls,

which had wrapt Idris in her journey thither. I lighted the glimmering

lamp, which flickered in this damp abode of the dead; then I bore my lost

one to her last bed, decently composing her limbs, and covering them with a

mantle, veiling all except her face, which remained lovely and placid. She

appeared to rest like one over-wearied, her beauteous eyes steeped in sweet

slumber. Yet, so it was not--she was dead! How intensely I then longed to

lie down beside her, to gaze till death should gather me to the same

repose.

But death does not come at the bidding of the miserable. I had lately

recovered from mortal illness, and my blood had never flowed with such an

even current, nor had my limbs ever been so instinct with quick life, as

now. I felt that my death must be voluntary. Yet what more natural than

famine, as I watched in this chamber of mortality, placed in a world of the

dead, beside the lost hope of my life? Meanwhile as I looked on her, the

features, which bore a sisterly resemblance to Adrian, brought my thoughts

470

The Last Man