Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1876-04-06

that she ought not to delay going up to her
brother-in-law's room.
"He is asleep, mamma" whispered Lily,
following her. Il have been sitting with him,
and only went down when l heard you come
in. think he is easier now"
Mrs. Lyndon perceived, as she came to the
bedside, that great change was apparent IN
the Captain since she had seen him last, and
her heart grew heavy with the conviction that
there was little hope of his recovery. His
eyes were deeply sunken, and gray shadows
had settled about his features; and as ne
slept, he drew his breath painfully and hard.
"Tell me how he was taken, Lilly" she said
below her breath.
II hardly know, mamma, it was so sud-
den and no one can tell exactly how 1t COM
menced. Papa heard him ring, and went up
directly. He found him sitting up, crying out
with pain-a dreadful pain, he said, in his
heart, which was beating terribly fast, and a
confused feeling in his head. Papa sent for
the doctor, but he hasn't come yet; and,
meanwhile, we gave uncle some Of his drops,
which quieted him, and he has slept little,
off and on. But papa fears he will not re-
cover"
$50 do I, Lily" said her mother sadly.
"Those lines on his face tell of some fatal in
ward stroke. I find him greatly changed"
While they were speaking, the doctor ar
rived. His opinion of the case Tailed with
Mrs. Lyndon's. There was little to be done,
be said though of course every effort must be
made to prolong life. The patients constitu-
tion was worn out, and he had not strength to
survive so violent an attack. When the Cap
tain awoke, he seemed scarcely conscious OF
what was going on around him. His eyes were
dull and vacant, and sought the familiar faces
surrounding the bed with an unmeaning gaze.
After time his faculties frightened some
what. He evidently recognized Mrs. Lyn-
don, and looked pleased at having her near
him. But there was no positive change for
the better, and before evening it became evil
dent that he was sinking fast The family
group, hushed and saddened, gathered around
bis bed. 1t was very quiet, uneventful life
that was passing away; one that had made but
little stir even in their small domestic world,
and in which, the young people now felt, with
conscious pang of self-reproach, they had
taken but little interest but now, invested
with the solemn mystery of it's approaching
end, that frail life seemed surrounded with a
new Importance, and each one felt tender.
ness for the kind, simple gentleman, which had
rarely stirred their hearts before Little acts
of kindness, unobtrusively performed, evil
dences of goodwill which they had scarcely
regarded their own thoughtlessness of his
comfort failure in showing him attentions
which might have grati6ed him, and occa-
sional ridicule of his peculiarities s-all crowd
ed now upon their recollection, bringing with
them halfremorseful regret. Who has not
had thoughts like these, while standing near
death.bed7 In the softened emotions of
such an hour, every trivial omission we recall
to mind assumes a new Importance, and with
the remembrance of them comes vain desire
to make reparation for them, when reparation
is no longer possible.
Was it a train of reflection Of this sort that
made NJ LzRedfqp ks 4Rk s9 Sbbaggl gal ss hs Rsa
ploring eyes, into the wan face, upon which
an ashy hue had already settled-that made
his breath come gaspingly, and his hand trem-
BILE as if with ague? His wife and children
noted his agitation, and even at that moment
it caused them to wonder a little, for he was
not a man prone to betray his emotions; but
then they had never seen him greatly tried.
1t came to Mrs. Lyndon's mind, somehow, to
connect it with his curious behaviour during
the past few months; but the idea was vague
and shadowy one, for which she could have as
signed no real reason.
1t was little before midnight when the
end came, and uncle George, having fallen a
short time before into quiet slumber, drifted
away by imperceptible degrees into that deep
er sleep from which there was no more ava
kening fo- him on eaHh; so TRANQUILITY and
painlessly, that none knew when the last
breath Auttered from his lips. Mrs. Lyndon,
touching his brow with her hand, was the first
to whisper: 1T is all over;" and then great
sob burst from her husbands overcharged
heart, and starting up from his post, he rushed
from the room, as if to find vent for his grief
out of the reach of all observation.
"Poor papa!" murmured Lily, looking af'
ter him with fearful eyes. "How terribly he
seems to feel it."
With noiseless feet they withdrew from the
chamber of death, and gathered in one of the
lower rooms to discuss in hushed tones the cir.
cumstances of the event which had just taken
place, until Mrs Lyndon sent the others off
to bed, and went herself to her husbands
study. A light was burning within it, and
gently she pushed open the door and entered.
Mr.. Lyndon was kneeling in front of the
large chair which stood by the study-table,
his face hidden on one of the arms, his whole
attitude one of the most profound detection
and grief. He started violently as his wife
drew near and laid her hand on his shoulder.
my dear Edward" she said tenderly.
evil you not let me comfort your"
"Comfort!' !' he echoed with groan. All!
Margaret, you do not know what you say. For
me there is no more comfort upon EARTH"
"Dont speak so, Edward" she rejoined,
filled with an underlined alarm at his words.
You ought t. know where to look for heal
ing for every wound"
"For ordinary wounds-for ordinary grief,
yes. But where there is a black, black stain
which cannot be washed away-a deep-dye3
sin scorching the soul. What healing can l
find p
He turned such a blanched and quivering
face toward her as he spoke, that her half
formed fear grew into a shuddering, awful
dread, and frightened cry broke from her
lips.
"For PHYS sake, do not look sol" she ex-
claimed in trembling tones. "Tell me what
you mean !"
II mean that am villain-a wretch not
fit to walk the earth-a hypocrite who ought
to have the gown and surplce torn from my
back, as emblems [ am unworthy to wear.
Margaret, am not worthy to take the name
of God upon my lips; still less to dare to
preach the Gospel and minister in the