Hamilton was placed in bed on the lower floor of Bayard's house; and, in
spite of the laudanum that was liberally administered, his sufferings
were almost intolerable. His children were not admitted to the room for
some time, but his wife could not be kept from him. She knew nothing of
the duel, but she saw that he was dying; and the suddenness and horror,
the end of her earthly happiness, drove her frantic. She shrieked and
raved until Hamilton was obliged to rouse himself and attempt to calm
her. The children were huddled in the next room, and when the pain
subsided for a time, they were brought in. Hamilton's eyes were closed.
When he was told that his children were beside his bed, he did not open
them at once. In those moments he forgot everything but the agony of
parting. Finally, he lifted his heavy eyelids. The children stood there,
the younger clinging to the older, shivering and staring in terror.
Hamilton gave them one look, then closed his eyes and did not open them
again for several moments. As the children were led from the room, one
of the boys fainted.
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