I was still listening in thought to her well-remembered tones--still picturing her pale and spiritual aspect, her wasted face and sublime gaze, as she lay on her placid deathbed, and whispered her longing to be restored to her divine Father's bosom--when a feeble voice murmured from the couch behind: "Who is that?"
Y me parecía escuchar su plácido tono, contemplar su rostro pálido y espiritual y su mirada sublime, verla luego tendida en su tranquilo lecho mortuorio...