CHAPTER XII. THE evening wore away. Pierce's letters were written. A pile of smouldering papers lay beneath the grate. There remained to him no care for his worldly goods; the uncertainty of life left but one direction for his thoughts. He had seen death in many shapes; each revision was less appalling than the one before. He had many times escaped death; such narrow escapes inspire a blind idea of immortality. Yet no-he, like all, must die. The reflection is so familiar! In hours of health it rests lightly on the mind, unimpressive. VOL. III. The only certainty in life-of all events in life the most appalling-Death, troubles us not until we come to die. Nay, how many court death-sigh for death-groan for death! What are they thinking of? Can it be their present woes rather than their past offences? They dream of death as rest-eternal rest. Will death redeem the promise? The reflection is so familiar! If it was not-and in the midst of heedless living we could once, now and then, realize death without dying-if we could with a living consciousness experience the change creeping over us-filthy corruption benumbing all our senses and our faculties— know ourselves to be here alive, with known and tangible objects about us with hope still left too-and the while to be goinggoing-powerlessly going-whither? * Yes, short as was now his time, he never yet had so much in which to mete the contracted span of life! Ah! if he had but a few days more a week or so-how he would live to redeem the days that were gone! But they were not to be had for the wishing. Bad or good as he was then, with much or little to answer for-perfect or imperfect— it made small difference now! But in a few hours it would make some—ay, all the difference. It was not a time to think of much elsebut there was yet one small box to close. Uppermost of its contents lay the little sketch of Lady Eda. He took it in his hand and his glistening eyes still resting upon that face, in a fit of moody abstraction half uttered: "Could earthly passions disturb me as this has done? Poor fool! Yet it has exercised an influence—a divine and purifying influence upon me. How often have all base motives fled before the ennobling thought that made me strive to be more worthy of thee, Eda! As I soared from the dark abyss of my imperfections, the light to which I aspired grew purer and still purer in its brightness; cheering me onward with gentle warmth; of fering increased reward to winning perse verance. "As cling the tender claspers of the vine to the trellis of some sunned cottage, so have the fibres of my spirit twined themselves in loving confidence around thy heavenly nature. Thou taught'st me first to dream of hope at rest;-and to inhale with thee the honeyed fragrance of a long-sown fantasy. Oh, what joy! to drink the balm of love returned,-from lips that breathed its heavenliest grace ! "But all my past existence has been a dream. What else were this?—I was young; but not in sorrow. Listlessly I floated on life's quick stream, powerless, and having little will to stem its ceaseless flow. Before me spread a stagnant ocean. Its pitchy waters exhaled darkness and corruption. A vision rose from out the stream of life, and hovered mid-air above me. It was a woman's form. Her hair, like flakes of night, half-veiled a face of purity. Not joy nor sorrow dwelt about her features; but some mystery of unrevealed thought—the stamp of an imprisoned soul doomed for a while to radiate internally. Onward I floated, insensible, attracted by her retreating form. Still the distance of the horrid pool glided into nearness. Seeing my danger, she stretched forth a hand to save me. I seized it and with the touch my being was reanimated. Spirit of life, I worshipped thee! : "Upward we soared through heaven's peaceful vaults the stillness mocking the wrathful wars beneath us. And now what things she taught me! But I was blinded with the light, and again she showed me earth. It was the hour of my life when day and night were blended in dubious sovereignty. The freshness of nature's first creation that glowed around her' had yet to conquer the chilly vapours which clung to me. She pointed downward, and spoke : "Wouldst thou, like other crawling worms, be blind for ever? Not in thy |