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Brest: and they both bewailed a fate that was so calamitous and unmerited. One night, when St. Andre was given over, Blanche, seated sorrowfully on the bed side, was observing with deep attention and compassion, the unhappy object of so much care and anxiety. The paleness of death overspread his features; but the traces of youth were still visible, and rendered them more afflicting. His closed eyes seemed closed forever: one of his hands extended on the bed. Blanche, with an irresistible impulse, dropped one of her hands on his, and finding ⟨it⟩ cold and lifeless, she thought him dead. "O Heavens! she exclaimed, it is all over! Unfortunate young man!" Terror, compassion, a softer motion still, now deprived her of all utterance, and she sunk down on the bed without sense or motion. At this instant St. Andre opened his eyes, and the first object that struck him was Blanche near him in a swoon—it was youth and beauty surrounded by the shades of death. He utters a piercing story, assistance arrives; and Blanche is recovering. This affecting scene is explained, and St Andre revives, only
