ing for the steward, "My dear Ernest (said he) I must see my father, he shall not be committed to the earth without my tears bedewing his clay-cold form, without supplicating his hovering spirit to speak peace and pardon to his most wretched son! Let me not be interrupted in my last duties; I will not be long, but I must be alone."
Ernest bowed in silence, and conducted him to the chamber of death, calling from thence those whose duty it was to watch the sacred remains. All departed; Ferdinand shuddered involuntarily at the scene before him, day-light was excluded, the glimmering tapers, the solemn stillness, the black pall thrown over the bed which concealed a lifeless form, once so beloved and revered, accustomed to smile upon a then darling son, and hold him to his heart with unutterable fondness.
"Oh! (cried Ferdinand, agonized by the painful recollection) oh! just Heaven, how
