"It is really quite dreadful to see her in this way," said Hyacinth, as
they chafed Ruth's hands and bathed her temples; "it is really quite
dreadful. Somebody ought to tell her, when she comes to, that her hair
is parted unevenly and needs brushing sadly. Harry's finely-chiseled
features look quite beautiful in repose. It is a pity the barber should
have been allowed to shave off his beard after death; it looked quite
oriental and picturesque. But the sight of Ruth, in this way, is
really dreadful; it quite unnerves me. I shall look ten years older by
to-morrow. I must go down and take a turn or two on the piazza." And
Hyacinth paced up and down, thinking--not of the bereaved sister,
who lay mercifully insensible to her loss, nor yet of the young girl
whose heart was to throb trustfully at the altar, by his side, on the
morrow,--but of her broad lands and full coffers, with which he intended
to keep at bay the haunting creditors, who were impertinent enough to
spoil his daily digestion by asking for their just dues.
* * * * *
One o'clock! The effect of the sleeping potion administered to Ruth had
passed away. Slowly she unclosed her eyes and gazed about her. The weary
nurse, forgetful of her charge, had sunk into heavy slumber.
Where was Harry?
Ruth presses her hands to her temples. Oh God! the consciousness that
_would_ come! the frantic out-reaching of the arms to clasp--a vain
shadow!
Where had they lain him?
She crossed the hall to Harry's sick room; the key was in the lock; she
turned it with trembling fingers. Oh God! the dreadful stillness of
that outlined form! the calm majesty of that marble brow, on which the
moonbeams fell as sweetly as if that peaceful sleep was but to restore
him to her widowed arms. That half filled glass, from which his
dying lips had turned away;--those useless phials;--that watch--_his_
watch--moving--and _he_ so still!--the utter helplessness of human
aid;--the dreadful might of Omnipotence!
"Harry!"
Oh, when was he ever deaf before to the music of that voice? Oh, how
could Ruth (God forgive her!) look upon those dumb lips and say, "Thy
will be done!"
"Horrible!" muttered Hyacinth, as the undertaker passed him on the
stairs with Harry's coffin. "These business details are very shocking to
a sensitive person. I beg your pardon; did you address me?" said he, to
a gentleman who raised his hat as he passed.
"I wished to do so, though an entire stranger to you," said the
gentleman, with a sympathizing glance, which was quite thrown away on
Hyacinth. "I have had the pleasure of living under the same roof, this
summer, with your afflicted sister and her noble husband, and have
become warmly attached to both. In common with several warm friends of
your brother-in-law, I am pained to learn that, owing to the failure of
parties for whom he had become responsible, there will be little or
nothing for the widow and her children, when his affairs are settled.
It is our wish to make up a purse, and request her acceptance of it,
through you, as a slight token of the estimation in which we held
her husband's many virtues. I understand you are to leave before
the funeral, which must be my apology for intruding upon you at so
unseasonable an hour."
With the courtliest of bows, in the blandest of tones, Hyacinth assured,
while he thanked Mr. Kendall, that himself, his father, and, indeed, all
the members of the family, were abundantly able, and most solicitous, to
supply every want, and anticipate every wish of Ruth and her children;
and that it was quite impossible she should ever suffer for anything,
or be obliged in any way, at any future time, to exert herself for her
own, or their support; all of which good news for Ruth highly gratified
Mr. Kendall, who grasped the velvet palm of Hyacinth, and dashed away
a grateful tear, that the promise to the widow and fatherless was
remembered in heaven.