is library, at the door of which
stood Hallings in an agony of grief and apprehension, imploring leave to
enter, if but for a moment. I joined my supplications to his, and after
a time we heard a heavy sigh, and the approach of feeble footsteps to
the door, on the opening of which the bereaved old man, as if
overpowered by the effort, staggered backwards, and would have fallen,
but that I caught him in my arms, and supported him to his easy-chair,
still holding his hand, as I took my seat beside him, in that deep awe
of silent sympathy, which feels it profanation to break in with human
speech upon the sacredness of unutterable sorrow. Long he lay back, as
he had sunk into his chair, silent and motionless. The small thin hand
I held, was as cold and pale as that of a corpse; and as I contemplated
his venerable countenance, colourless as the hand, the closed eyelids,
and sunken temples, and every sharpened feature set in rigid and
unnatural composure, I was startled--not shocked--by a sudden thought
that the imperishable spirit had departed already from that poor frame
of decaying mortality.
In breathless awe I stole my fingers gently to the wrist of the hand I
held in mine, _almost_ praying inwardly that I might find all quiet
there; but even while I felt for the imperceptible pulse, a change came
over the pale countenance--a slight tremor of the muscles about the
mouth, a quivering of the lower eyelids, and then a tear stole
glistening through the thin worn lashes of either eye, and slowly,
heavily trickled down the furrowed cheek, and after a minute the
trembling hand was withdrawn from the tender pressure of mine, and with
its fellow joined and half upraised in the attitude of prayer. The old
man's eyes were still closed, but his lips moved, and in the tremulous
accents which escaped them, I distinguished--"I thank thee!... I thank
thee.... Oh Lord!... Thou hast taken _her_ from the evil to come."
Uninvited and unwelcome, Mr Heneage Devereux presented himself at the
Hall, as suddenly as rapid travelling could bring him there, after the
notification of Mrs Eleanor's death had reached him in London. And it
was evident to me and others that he had motives for preventing as much
as possible all unrestrained and confidential intercourse between his
cousin and those old friends and neighbours, who would have rallied
round him in his distress and perplexities, and, by their strenuous and
disinterested counsels and assista
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