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Various

"The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 14, No. 82, August, 1864"

If anybody could
take me to my own room, I could see his grave.' She keeps repeating it,
and she means the sea."
'Twas not much to take her across the entry. Mary Ellen arranged
everything, and we placed her on a sofa by the window.
"Oh," she exclaimed, "how I have longed for this! I have hungered and
thirsted for a good look at the sea."
Her cheeks were pale, her eyes large and bright.
She looked so ethereal, so unearthly, and lay so long motionless, with
her eyes fixed upon the water, that I half feared she would at that
moment pass away from us,--that she might, in some beautiful form, a
dove, or a bright angel, soar upward through the open window, and be
lost to our sight among the golden-edged clouds above.
But she was thinking of David's grave. And a beautiful grave it seemed,
from that window. The water was still, as smooth as glass. I had never
noticed upon it so uncommon a tinge. 'Twas mostly of a pale green, very
pale; but portions of it were of a deep lilac. Farther off it was
purple, and very far off a dim, shadowy gray. I was glad it had on that
particular night such a peaceful, placid look.


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