In the same days, too, his Mother had been seized
here by some painful disease, which from its continuance grew alarming.
Sad omens for Edward Sterling, who by this time had as good as ceased
writing or working in the _Times_, having comfortably winded up his
affairs there; and was looking forward to a freer idle life befitting
his advanced years henceforth. Fatal eclipse had fallen over that
household of his; never to be lifted off again till all darkened into
night.

By dint of watchful nursing, John Sterling got on foot once more: but
his Mother did not recover, quite the contrary. Her case too grew very
questionable. Disease of the heart, said the medical men at last; not
immediately, not perhaps for a length of years, dangerous to life, said
they; but without hope of cure. The poor lady suffered much; and, though
affecting hope always, grew weaker and weaker. John ran up to Town in
March; I saw him, on the morrow or next day after, in his own room at
Knightsbridge: he had caught fresh cold overnight, the servant having
left his window up, but I was charged to say nothing of it, not to
flutter the already troubled house: he was going home again that very
day, and nothing ill would come of it. We understood the family at
Falmouth, his Wife being now near her confinement again, could at any
rate comport with no long absence. He was cheerful, even rudely merry;
himself pale and ill, his poor Mother's cough audible occasionally
through the wall. Very kind, too, and gracefully affectionate; but I
observed a certain grimness in his mood of mind, and under his light
laughter lay something unusual, something stern, as if already dimmed
in the coming shadows of Fate. "Yes, yes, you are a good man: but I
understand they mean to appoint you to Rhadamanthus's post, which has
been vacant for some time; and you will see how you like that!" This
was one of the things he said; a strange effulgence of wild drollery
flashing through the ice of earnest pain and sorrow. He looked paler
than usual: almost for the first time, I had myself a twinge of
misgiving as to his own health; for hitherto I had been used to blame
as much as pity his fits of dangerous illness, and would often angrily
remonstrate with him that he might have excellent health, would he but
take reasonable care of himself, and learn the art of sitting still.
Alas, as if he _could_ learn it; as if Nature had not laid her ban on
him even there, and said in smiles and frow