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does it boot to talk of repentance and forgiveness to the dead, had I
during her life once consulted her gentle wishes, and curbed my rugged
nature to do her pleasure, I should not feel thus."
Idris and her mother were unlike in person. The dark hair, deep-set black
eyes, and prominent features of the Ex-Queen were in entire contrast to the
golden tresses, the full blue orbs, and the soft lines and contour of her
daughter's countenance. Yet, in latter days, illness had taken from my poor
girl the full outline of her face, and reduced it to the inflexible shape
of the bone beneath. In the form of her brow, in her oval chin, there was
to be found a resemblance to her mother; nay in some moods, their gestures
were not unlike; nor, having lived so long together, was this wonderful.
There is a magic power in resemblance. When one we love dies, we hope to
see them in another state, and half expect that the agency of mind will
inform its new garb in imitation of its decayed earthly vesture. But these
are ideas of the mind only. We know that the instrument is shivered, the
sensible image lies in miserable fragments, dissolved to dusty nothingness;
a look, a gesture, or a fashioning of the limbs similar to the dead in a
living person, touches a thrilling chord, whose sacred harmony is felt in
the heart's dearest recess. Strangely moved, prostrate before this spectral
image, and enslaved by the force of blood manifested in likeness of look
and movement, I remained trembling in the presence of the harsh, proud, and
till now unloved mother of Idris.
Poor, mistaken woman! in her tenderest mood before, she had cherished the
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