It was not hope,--that was impossible; it was not resignation; it was only a calm resting in the present, which seemed so beautiful that he wished to think of no future.

It was like that hush of spirit which we feel amid the bright, mild woods of autumn, when the bright hectic flush is on the trees, and the last lingering flowers by the brook; and we joy in it all the more, because we know that soon it will all pass away.
The friend who knew most of Eva's own imaginings and foreshadowings was her faithful bearer, Tom.

To him she said what she would not disturb her father by saying.

To him she imparted those mysterious intimations which the soul feels, as the cords begin to unbind, ere it leaves its clay forever.
Tom, at last, would not sleep in his room, but lay all night in the outer verandah, ready to rouse at every call.
"Uncle Tom, what alive have you taken to sleeping anywhere and everywhere, like a dog, for ?" said Miss Ophelia.

"I thought you was one of the orderly sort, that liked to lie in bed in a Christian way." "I do, Miss Feely," said Tom, mysteriously.