his
brother, George, he would not believe was alive, fancying it was his
spirit, extended itself after a time to his daughter, whom also he
believed to be dead. So far as could be gathered from the disjointed
utterances that escaped him, he supposed that his own spirit was
trying to escape from the body, and that the spirits of his brother
and daughter had been sent to comfort and assist him.

Thus tossing and tumbling on a heated bed, which the delicious breath
of June, streaming through the open windows, could not cool for him,
passed nine long wretched days, during which the confinement of both
Holden and Faith was almost incessant, for whenever either moved from
the bed or made a motion as if to leave the room, Armstrong would
intreat them, in the most touching tones and pathetic language, which
neither the brother's nor daughter's heart could withstand, not to
leave him, for he was just then ready, only one more struggle was
necessary, and he should be free. And besides carrying into his
insanity a habit, of which we have spoken, he would insist on holding
their hands. The touch of their heavenly bodies, he said, sent a
sensation of roses and lilies through his earthly body; they refined
him and attracted him upward, and he was sure he had sometimes risen a
little way into the air. "O!" he would exclaim, "I never knew before,
how much flowers resemble spirits. They smile and laugh alike, and
their voices are very similar."

On the tenth day the fever abated, and Armstrong gradually fell into
a long, deep sleep. So long, so profound was the slumber that the
attendants about his bed feared that it might be one from which there
was no awaking. But the orders of the doctor, who, at the crisis was
present the whole time, were peremptory that the patient should not
be disturbed, but Nature allowed, in her own way, to work out her
beneficent purposes. Armstrong then slept many, many hours, in that
still and darkened room, while attentive ears were listening to the
deeper drawn breath, and anxious eyes watching the slightest change of
countenance.

At last he awoke, and the first word he spoke, so low, that even in
the hushed chamber it was scarcely audible, was, "Faith." A smile of
wonderful sweetness illuminated his face, as he tried to extend his
hand, white as the snowy coverlet on which it rested, toward her, but
so weak was he, that only a motion of the fingers could be perceived.
Faith, through the tears which f