e a feverish pulse."

I laid my hand on his, with an involuntary motion. Though it was moist
with the drops that had been oozing over it, it had a burning heat. He
startled at its touch.

"You are ill,--you are feverish!" he cried. "The close air of that
little room has been killing you. I knew it would. You should have gone
to Mrs. Linwood's, you and your mother, when she sent for you. Peggy
would have been abundantly cared for."

"What, leave her here to die!--her, so good, so faithful, and
affectionate, who would have died a thousand times over for us. Oh
Richard, how can you speak of such a thing! Peggy is dying now,--I know
that she is. I never looked on death, but I saw its shadow on her livid
face. Why did Dr. Harlowe send me away? I am not afraid to see her die.
Hark! my mother calls me."

I started up, but my head was dizzy, and I should have fallen had not
Richard put his arm around me.

"Poor girl," said he, "I wish I had a sister to be with and comfort you.
These are dark hours for us all, for we feel the pressure of God
Almighty's hand. I do not wonder that you are crushed. You, so young and
tender. But bear up, Gabriella. The day-spring will yet dawn, and the
shadows fly away."

So he kept talking, soothingly, kindly, keeping me out in the balminess
and freshness of the evening, while the fever atmosphere burned within.
I knew not how long I sat. I knew not when I returned to the house. I
have forgotten that. But I remember standing that night over a still,
immovable form, on whose pale, peaceful brow, those purplish spots, of
which I had heard in awful whispers, were distinctly visible. The
tossing arms were crossed reposingly over the pulseless bosom,--the
restless limbs were rigid as stone. I remember seeing my mother, whom
they tried to lead into another chamber,--my mother, usually so calm and
placid,--throw herself wildly on that humble, fever-blasted form, and
cling to it in an agony of despair. It was only by the exertion of main
force that she was separated from it and carried to her own apartment.
There she fell into one of those deadly fainting fits, from which the
faithful, affectionate Peggy had so often brought her back to life.

Never shall I forget that awful night. The cold presence of mortality in
its most appalling form, the shadow of my mother's doom that was rolling
heavily down upon me with prophetic darkness, the dismal preparations,
the hurrying steps echoing so drearily thr