The pupils were dilated, and intensely black, while they shone so
brilliantly that it seemed as if a fire were burning within them. She
spoke eagerly:
'Promise me once more, Hester, that you will not leave my body, after
the soul has left it, until it is laid in the grave, and that you will
not let idle curiosity come and gaze at it.'
I readily gave her this promise, thinking it was very little to do for a
dying friend. The unnatural expression faded from her eyes. She seemed
entirely satisfied.
It was late in the afternoon that I was aroused from a sound sleep by
the intelligence that Miriam was dead. She died while asleep, without a
struggle, or a groan. I called in Mrs. Grove, the housekeeper, who had
been devotedly attached to Miriam, and we dressed her in a white robe,
and scattered fragrant flowers around her, to take away, if possible,
the horror and ghastliness of death. She did not look at all like the
Miriam I had known and loved. Her features were sharp and pinched, and
her face looked careworn, and _anxious_--if anything so lifeless can be
said to have expression.
No one came into the room that evening but the family, and they retired
early, and left me alone with the dead. Mrs. Grove sat up all night in
the dining room, which was separated from Miriam's room by a narrow
entry.
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