FORTIETH PAPER.
AFTER a time, I begged of him to let me sleep. I threw myself on the bed. I had a fulness of blood in my head which made me sleep,—my last sleep on earth. I had a horrible dream, from which I awoke in terror, shuddering and in agony.
The Chaplain was seated at the foot of my bed, reading prayers.
“Have I slept long?” I inquired of him.
“My son,” said he, “you have slept an hour. They have brought your child, who is waiting in the next room; I would not allow them to awaken you.”
“Oh,” cried I, “my darling child! Let them bring in my idolized child!”
FORTY-FIRST PAPER.
MY child looked rosy and happy, and her large eyes were bright. Oh, she is so pretty! I drew her towards me; I raised her in my arms, and placing her on my knees, kissed her dear hair. I asked, “Why is her Mother not with her?” And I learnt that she was very ill, and my poor old mother also.
Mary looked at me with astonishment. Caressed, embraced, devoured with kisses, she submitted quietly; but, from time to time, cast an uneasy look towards her Nurse, who was crying in the corner.
At length I was able to speak.