To believe in the innocence of Anthony Hurdlestone was to hope against
hope; yet Juliet firmly, confidingly, and religiously believed him
guiltless. Oh, who might not envy her this love and faith!
The robin red-breast from his fading bower of hawthorns warbled in the
early dawn of the cold, bright, autumnal day. The first rays of the sun
gilded the gay changing leaves of the vine that clustered about the
windows with hues of the richest dye, and the large bunches of grapes
peeping from among the leaves looked more temptingly ripe, bathed in dew
and brightened in the morning beam. A slight rap at her chamber door
dispelled Juliet's slumbers, and Ruth Candler entered the room.
"Is anything wrong, Ruth?"
"My mistress is awake, and wishes to see you, Miss," said Ruth, bursting
into tears. "It's the last morn. I'm thinking, that she'll ever see on
earth. She's in no pain, she says, but she is so pale, and her eyes do
not look like the eyes of the living. Alas! alas! what shall we do when
she is gone? The dear sweet young creter!"
Ruth wept aloud with her face to the wall while Juliet hurried on her
clothes, and, with a full heart, followed the old woman to the chamber
of the invalid.
She found Clary sitting up in the bed, supported by pillows. Cold as it
was, the casement was open to admit the full beams of the rising sun,
and the arms of the dying girl were extended towards it, and her
countenance lighted up with an expression of angelic beauty and intense
admiration.
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