Her husband sat and held her hand, never moving, scarcely breathing, lest he should disturb her long, deep sleep. He sat there more than an hour. The room grew dark with the shades of evening; and when at length Catherine entered with the night lamp, he raised his hand with a sign of silence and caution, murmuring— “She has fallen asleep.” Catherine approached quietly, shading the lamp with her hand, and looked upon the sleeper. “Hush, be very cautious—do not disturb her,” whispered Frank. The sweet and solemn voice of Catherine gently arose, saying, “Come away, Captain Fairfax. Nothing will ever disturb her more. She has fallen asleep in Jesus.” CHAPTER XXVI GEORGIA. The serpent now began to change; Her elfin blood in madness ran.—KEATS Two months have passed since the death of the sisters. To the consternation of the _haut ton_ of the city, the beautiful Mrs. Clifton has left Richmond, and come down to mourn with those that mourn at White Cliffs. With an air at once of earnest conviction and graceful weariness, she says that it is “All vanity and vexation of spirit,” meaning fashionable society, spring traveling, and sight seeing; summers at watering places among the mountains, or by the sea-side; winters in town, with plays, concerts, balls, dressing, visiting and waltzing; autumn parties in the country-houses, with equestrian expeditions, sailing excursions, and forest rides and drives, and even the moonlight serenades, and “the slight flirtation by the light of the chandelier.” Mrs. Georgia speaks the truth. “Vanity” all this undoubtedly is in _her_. But _entres nous_, the “vexation of spirit” appertains to certain “small” accounts, ranging from fifty to fifteen hundred dollars, and sent in by landlords, merchants, jewelers, milliners, etc., people so wanting in delicate perception, as not to see that the honor of the belle’s custom was quite payment enough in itself for their goods, and so utterly destitute of classic lore, and the faculty of distinguishing persons, as actually to draw out on a piece of paper a list of items opposite to a row of figures, with a sum total at the bottom, and send it to a Circe, as if she were a tradesman, and could understand it! Charming Georgia did not even try to comprehend such mysterious hieroglyphics. She knew, bewitching creature! that “where ignorance is bliss, ’tis folly to be wise.” Therefore, to escape duns, to recruit health and spirits, and, of all things, to console Major Clifton, she has come down to White Cliffs. The beautiful Georgia presented herself to the mourning master of White Cliffs in a very deprecating spirit—she said that she felt her arrival there at such a moment to be almost an intrusion, but that he would excuse it, as she had exhausted money and credit, and had no other home.