sprang to my feet and rushed upon the scene. The picture that met my
eyes glares at me now from the black background of the past. On the
bed, that roused figure, awful with the shadows of death, raised, in
spite of the constraining hands of her two sons, into an attitude
expressive of the most intense repulsion, terror, and dread; and at
the door, the fainting form of the pretty, dimpled, care-shunning
daughter, who, struck to the heart by this poisoned dart from the
hand that should have been lifted in blessing, stood swaying in
dismay, her wide blue eyes fixed on the terrible face before her,
and her hands outstretched and clutching in vague fear after some
support that would sustain her, and prevent her falling crushed to
the floor.

To bound to her side, and lift her gently out of her mother's sight,
was the work of a moment. But in that moment my eyes had time to see
such a flash of infinite longing take the place of the fierce
passions upon that mother's face, that my heart stood still, and I
scarcely knew whether to bear my burden from the room, or to rush
with it to that bedside and lay it, in all its childlike beauty, on
that maddened mother's dying breast. A low, deep groan from the bed
decided me. With that look of love on her face, otherwise distorted
by every evil passion, Mrs. Pollard had fallen back into the arms of
her two sons, and quietly breathed her last.




VII.

ADVANCES.