See where He bows His sacred head!
He bows His head, and dies!
But soon He’ll break death’s envious chain,
And in full glory shine:
o Lamb of God! was ever pain,
Was ever love like Thine!”
There was a haze before my sight. I did not see the bolt withdrawn; only as through a mist see the quivering, swaying form. A long drawn sigh, that ended in a sob like one deep breath from a thousand hearts, proclaimed the end, and Mr. Webster and I made our way from that tragic scene.
CHAPTER XIV.
AFTER this, life for many months was very grey at Holme. We did not talk much about the grim days we had passed through. They were pleasant neither to talk of nor think on. My father’s mind was chiefly exercised about the portentous length of Mr. Blackburn’s bill of costs, and upon some of the items he delivered himself at large:
“‘Attending you,’” he quoted, “‘when you instructed me to see John Quarmby and James Eagland with a view to procuring their proofs for this defence, 6s. 8d.’”