Her hair streamed in disorder about her neck and shoulders,
like the dark wings of a lifeless bird floating on the surface of the
waters. Her face, from which all color had not fled, was calm and
peaceful as in slumber and shone with that preternatural beauty death
leaves on the countenance of those who die young; like the last and
fairest ray of retiring life, lingering on the brow from which it is
about to depart, or the first beam of dawning immortality on the
features which are henceforward to be hallowed in the memory of those
who survive. I had never before, and have never since, seen her so
divinely transfigured. Was Death the most perfect form of her celestial
beauty, or did Providence intend this first and solemn impression, as a
foreshadowing of that unchangeable image of beauty, which I was
destined to entomb in my memory, and eternally evoke!
We jumped into the boat, to take up the apparently dying woman, and
carry her beyond the rocks. I placed my hand upon her heart, and
approached my ear to her lips, as I would to those of a sleeping
infant.
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