One night there was a great change; physicians were summoned in haste;
there were hours of anxious watching. Toward morning he seemed a little
better, and I was left alone with him. He slumbered quietly, but when
he awoke there was a strange and solemn look in his face, such as I had
never seen before. I knew what it must mean.
"When Dr. Hammond comes, let me see him alone," he whispered.
I made no objection; nothing could frustrate my purpose now.
The physician came,--a kind old man, who had known us all from infancy.
He was closeted awhile with William; then he came out, looking deeply
moved.
"Go to him,--comfort him, if you can," he said.
"You have told him?" I asked.
"Yes,--he insisted upon hearing the truth, and I knew he had got where
it could make no difference. Poor fellow! it was a terrible blow."
I wanted a few moments for reflection; I sent John in my stead. I
locked myself in my own room, and tried to get the full weight of what
I was going to do. I was about to meet him who had rejected my heart's
best love, no longer in the flush and insolence of health and strength,
but doomed, dying,--with a dark, hopeless eternity stretching out
before his shuddering gaze.
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