Down By His Bed-Side, And Watched Him, But He Never Spoke Again.
presence, however, gave him evident satisfaction - for every now and
then, as he looked at me, a vague smile would come over his visage, and
he would feebly point to the sealed box on the table.
As the day wore
away, his life seemed to wear away with it. Towards sunset, his hand
sunk on the bed and lay motionless; his eyes grew glazed; his mouth
remained open, and thus he gradually died.
I could not but feel shocked at this absolute extinction of my kindred.
I dropped a tear of real sorrow over this strange old man, who had thus
reserved his smile of kindness to his deathbed; like an evening sun
after a gloomy day, just shining out to set in darkness. Leaving the
corpse in charge of the domestics, I retired for the night.
It was a rough night. The winds seemed as if singing my uncle's requiem
about the mansion; and the bloodhounds howled without as if they knew
of the death of their old master. Iron John almost grudged me the
tallow candle to burn in my apartment and light up its dreariness; so
accustomed had he been to starveling economy. I could not sleep. The
recollection of my uncle's dying scene and the dreary sounds about the
house, affected my mind. These, however, were succeeded by plans for
the future, and I lay awake the greater part of the night, indulging
the poetical anticipation, how soon I would make these old walls ring
with cheerful life, and restore the hospitality of my mother's
Enter page number
Page 210 of 433
Words from 55925 to 56200