Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1894-04-13

|
wife and little ones, soon TO be left
alone. They would be well provided
for-that was great blessing.
And IL was with solemn
sense Of pleasure that he arranged
everything TO the best of his ability,
for the welfare of the loved ones, soon
to be left alone.
He became very devout also. Every
day he read the prayers in his little
family circle; and attended divine
service on Sunday; feeling shudder
of nervous dread run over him, when
the second Sunday had gone, and he
knew that only one remained to him.
1t was wonderful how tenaciously
the idea chung to his mind-the posi-
| tive belief that he was doomed man,
marked by Death as his prey. How
gentle and kind and tender he was TO
all at home. Perhaps, if more people
could develop similar hallucination,
it might be better. for the peace of
many a household. To be ever pre-
pairing for the great event, would
keep all of us gentler and kinder, and
more considerable.
Looking back upon the time, in
after years, Bessie Carewe was obliged
to admit that it was the happiest;
most peaceful time of all her married
| life. But, of course, she knew nothing
of her husbands firm belief ia his APP
preaching demise. She had, in fact,
forgotten all about Arnold's odd
dreams, and he had not explained to
her its horrible exactness.
The days went by. The holidays
sad and sweetly solemn TO the man
who felt that they were the very last
he should ever see upon earth-were
gone, and the seventh day of January
had come. Carewe now discarded his
watch, placing it in his dressing case.
He did not wish to see time-piece.
Only seventy-two hours between him
and the great UnlSnown-unless it had
all been only a dream! Yet, that
seemed quite impossible. For why
should the two brothers have Both
dreamed the same thing unless it was
intended as a most solemn warning?
So carefully avoiding every time
piece, making all effort to forget the
fatal and fast-approaching hour, Ar
mold Carewe waited.
The tenth of January came at last
a bright, winter day.
He arose in the morning, after a
sleepless night, saying to himself;
"My last day on earth! God help
mel"
He looked so pale and worn, AMI so
evidently i'll, that his wife begged
him to remain home from the Ollie c
that day.
AS that was what he secretly in
tended doing, he consented.
AS the fatal hour drew near-for he
| imagined il to be near the time-he
made his way to the pretty guest
chamber and lay down upon the soft
couch. A fire had been kindled in
the CRATE and the room was warm
and cheerful. Over the fireplace,
upon the marble mantel, tiny clock
was standing. Arnold Carewe turpNd
his eyes resolutely away from it. nc
did not wish TO know the exact mo.
ment. So he lay there, and gradually
a slow feeling of torpor began to steal
over him. His wife came into the
room and with her the two pretty
! children-he had told her TO bring
them. He took his loved ones in his
arms and strained them to his heart
! in passionate farewell, all the more
solemn because he dared not tell
Bessie that he believed himself TO be
| dying. He was conscious of a feeling
of gratitude that he had been warned
| in time.
After a time Bessie took the chill
dren away. Then She returned to his
side with glass of cordial.
''Here, dear, drink this" she said,
sweetly; cit will help you!" 49,
He obeyed her, and then lay watch
ing the graceful figure, as she moved
about the room.
At last his eyes, in spite of his de
termination to the contrary wandered
to the clock and rested there.
Good Heavens! Ten minutes past
two!
Bessie, "he moaned, feebly, "come"
Then all grew dark before his eyes;
he felt like one stepping softly away
then darkness fell.
arnold! Arnold! wake up! am
afraid you will sleep too long! 1t is
past six o'clock"
Bessie Carewe bent over his pros
trate form, and Arnold Carewe opened
his eyes
"Am in heaven?" he gasped.
"Dear memo! You have beer
asleep ever since half-past two!
gave you a dose of my sleeping medi
cine in that glass of cordial. know
you have not slept for nights. Why,
Arnold what are you staring at?"
For he was sitting up now, gazing
in the rosy lamp-light, at that clock
Still ten minutes past two!
ooh, yes" she laughed, lightly; "th'
clock is broken. Don't you remembel
the children were playing with it, las
summer, and brolse'the works? 1t has
never been repaired. Why, Arnold
what is the matter?"
For he was upon his feet now, and