Ah! he was far past relief now; he was stricken with death. And with
Thurston all thoughts, all feelings, all interests, even those connected
with Marian, were soon lost in that awful presence. It was the first
time he had ever looked upon death, and now, in the rushing tide of his
sinful passions and impetuous will, he was brought face to face with
this last, dread, all-conquering power! What if it were not in his own
person? What if it were in the person of an old man, very infirm, and
over-ripe for the great reaper? It was death--the final earthly end of
every living creature--death, the demolition of the human form, the
breaking up of the vital functions, the dissolution between soul and
body, the one great event that "happeneth to all;" the doom certain, the
hour uncertain; coming in infancy, youth, maturity, as often or oftener
than in age. These were the thoughts that filled Thurston's mind as he
stood and wiped the clammy dews from the brow of the dying man.

Thurston might have remained much longer, too deeply and painfully
absorbed in thought to notice the darkening of the night or the beating
of the storm, had not a gust of the rain and wind, of unusual violence,
shaken the windows.

This recalled Marian to his mind; it was nearly time for her to arrive;
he hoped that she was near the house; that she would soon be there; he
arose and went to the window to look forth into the night; but the deep
darkness prevented his seeing, as the noise of the storm prevented his
hearing the approach of any vehicle that might be near. He went back to
the bedside; the old man was breathing his life away without a struggle.
Thurston called the mulatto housekeeper to take his place, and then went
down stairs and out of the hall door, and gazed and listened for the
coming of the gig, in vain. He was just about to re-enter the hall and
close the door when the sound of wheels, dashing violently,
helter-skelter, and with break-neck speed into the yard, arrested his
attention.

"Marian! it is my dear Marian at last; but the fellow need not risk her
life to save her from the storm by driving at that rate. My own Marian!"
he exclaimed, as he hurried out, expecting to meet her.

Melchizedek alone sprang from the gig, and sank trembling and quaking at
his master's feet.

Thurston blindly pushed past him, and peered and felt in the gig. It was
empty.

"Where is the lady, sirrah? What ails you? Why don't you answer me?"
exclaimed T