Joseph endeavored to point her to the Saviour. At first, she was unwilling to hear a word on the subject, and begged him not to waste his breath; but at length, as he earnestly pointed her to the Lamb of God, able, willing and ready to save to the uttermost all who come unto God by him, she burst into tears, and even besought him to pray with her. He did so; and after remaining with her about three hours, he went out and obtained a good woman to take care of her so long as she lived. He supposed from her appearance that she was not so near her end as she imagined. He made his arrangements to return and to watch with her in company with her nurse during the night. After an hour he returned to her room, and was surprised at the alteration which had taken place. She was evidently dying. Now her whole life stood out before her, and she trembled at the idea of appearing in the presence of a holy God. Joseph prayed with her repeatedly. He wept as he implored her to cast her burden of sin and fear upon the Saviour. She listened as for her life, but could only cry out "too late!--_too late!!_" This dreadful lament she continued until near midnight, when Joseph read to her a few passages from the Bible, on the abounding of divine mercy toward the chief of sinners, and renewed his exhortation to her to repent and believe, saying, "turn ye, turn ye, for why will ye die?" "Oh! If I could live--only one hour--more!"--and as the words were on her quivering lips, her countenance changed, her eyes were fixed, her spirit departed! CHAPTER XXXVI. "I feel death rising higher still, and higher Within my bosom; every breath I fetch Shuts up my life within a shorter compass: And like the vanishing sound of bells, grows less And less each pulse, till it be lost in air." DRYDEN. "Death's but a path that must be trod, If man would ever pass to God." PARNELL. _Wednesday, March 5th._ I am really pained by Pauline's conduct toward her cousin. She shuns him as much as possible. He feels it too. He always manifested so much interest in her; but she avails herself of every excuse to walk with Eugene, and avoids seeing Joseph. I can perceive that he is grieved, but though he often gazes at her with a sad, inquiring expression, he does not speak. I have never known her to be rude; but I felt it my duty to speak with her to-day upon the subject. I am afraid I spoke too sternly, for she immediately burst into tears. She made no excuse, only saying, "I can't help it, mamma." "Your cousin," I said, "has not deserved such treatment. He has always, since you were a baby, taken a great interest in you;" and I related his kindness in taking her to ride on horseback, and many other events, which I was surprised to find she remembered. But still she said nothing; and only cried the more. I don't know what to make of her. "Sometimes deep feeling hides itself in silence."