Eliza and I went to look at her: Georgiana, who had burst out into loud weeping, said she dared not go.

There was stretched Sarah Reed's once robust and active frame, rigid and still: her eye of flint was covered with its cold lid; her brow and strong traits wore yet the impress of her inexorable soul.

A strange and solemn object was that corpse to me.

I gazed on it with gloom and pain: nothing soft, nothing sweet, nothing pitying, or hopeful, or subduing did it inspire; only a grating anguish for _her_ woes--not _my_ loss--and a sombre tearless dismay at the fearfulness of death in such a form.
Eliza surveyed her parent calmly.

After a silence of some minutes she observed-- "With her constitution she should have lived to a good old age: her life was shortened by trouble." And then a spasm constricted her mouth for an instant: as it passed away she turned and left the room, and so did I.
Neither of us had dropt a tear..