“In time!!” exclaimed Sir Edward, grasping his brother’s hand with vehement agitation. “Do you mean to say that Frank is yet in danger!”

Major Graham mournfully shook his head, and undrawing the bed curtains, he silently pointed to the sleeping countenance of Frank, which was as still as death, and already overspread by a ghastly paleness. Sir Edward then sunk into a chair, and clenched his hands over his forehead with [248] ]a look of unspeakable anguish, saying, in an under-tone, “Worn out, as I am, in mind and body, I needed not this to destroy me! Say at once, brother, is there any hope?”

“None, my dear Edward! None! Even now he is insensible, and I fear with little prospect of ever becoming conscious again.”

At this moment Frank opened his eyes, which were dim and glassy, while it became evident that he had relapsed into a state of temporary delirium.

“Get more candles! how very dark it is!” he said. “Who are all those people? Send away everybody but grandmama! I must speak to her alone. Never tell papa of all this, it would only distress him—say nothing about me. Why do Harry and Laura never come? They have been absent more than a week! Who took away uncle David too?”

Laura listened for some time in an agony of grief, till at last, unable any longer to restrain her feelings, she clasped Frank in her arms and burst into tears, exclaiming, in accents of piercing distress, “Oh Frank! dear Frank! have you forgotten poor Laura?”

“Not till I am dead!” whispered he, while a momentary gleam of recollection lighted up his face. “Laura! we meet again.”

Sir Edward now wished to speak, but Frank had relapsed into a state of feeble unconsciousness, from which nothing could arouse him; once or twice he repeated the name of Laura in a low melancholy voice, till it became totally inaudible—his breath became shorter—his lips became livid—his whole frame seemed convulsed—and some hours afterwards, all that was mortal of Frank Graham ceased to exist. About four in the morning his body was at rest, and his spirit returned to God who gave it.

The candles had burned low in their sockets, and still the mourners remained, unwilling to move from the awful [249] ]scene of their bereavement. Mrs. Crabtree at length, who laid out the body herself, extinguished the lights, and flung open the window curtains. Then suddenly a bright blaze of sunshine streamed into the room, and rested on the cold pale face of the dead. To the stunned and bewildered senses of Harry and Laura, the brilliant dawn of morning seemed like a mockery of their distress. Many persons were already passing by—the busy stir of life had begun, and a boy strolling along the road whistled his merry tune as he went gaily on.

“We are indeed mere atoms in the world!” thought Laura bitterly, while these sights and sounds fell heavily on her heart.