Was it a mere thrill of the dead air, too slight to be heard, but quivering in every spiritual sense?
I KNEW without hearing, without feeling it! The something was coming! it drew nearer! In the bosom of my desertion awoke an infant hope.

The noiseless thrill reached the coffin-door--became sound, and smote on my ear.
The door began to move--with a low, soft creaking of its hinges.

It was opening! I ceased to listen, and stared expectant.
It opened a little way, and a face came into the opening.

It was Lona's.
Its eyes were closed, but the face itself was upon me, and seemed to see me.

It was white as Eve's, white as Mara's, but did not shine like their faces.