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PinkMonkey.com Digital Library - PinkMonkey.com - Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe

CHAPTER 27



“This Is the Last of Earth.”- John Q. Adams



THE statuettes and pictures in Eva’s room were shrouded in white napkins,
and only hushed breathings and muffled foot-falls were heard there, and the light
stole in solemnly through windows partially darkened by closed blinds.

The bed was draped in white; and there, beneath the drooping angel-figure,
lay a little sleeping form-sleeping never to waken!

There she lay, robed in one of the simple white dresses she had been wont to
wear when living; the rose-colored light through the curtains cast over the icy
coldness of death a warm glow. The heavy eyelashes drooped softly on the pure
cheek; the head was turned a little to one side, as if in natural sleep, but there was
diffused over every lineament of the face that high celestial expression, that min-
gling of rapture and repose, which showed it was no earthly or temporary sleep,
but the long, sacred rest which “He giveth to his beloved.”

There is no death to such as thou, dear Eva; neither darkness nor shadow of
death; only such a bright fading as when the morning star fades in the golden
dawn. Thine is the victory without the battles-the crown without the conflict.

So did St. Clare think, as, with folded arms, he stood there gazing. Ah! who
shall say what he did think? for, from the hour that voices had said, in the dying
chamber, “She is gone,” it had been all a dreary mist, a heavy “dimness of an-
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