Cora and The Doctor Part 59

"'I shall probably be able to impart some knowledge of her at our next interview,' he replied, and soon took his leave.

"When he bent over my head at parting, I saw his eye was moistened by a tear, and I loved him for sympathizing in my grief.

"Oh, my son! my hand almost refuses to record the pang which was soon to seize my soul. During the days succeeding his visit, I arose from my bed, dispensed with the services of a physician, and yet my kind friend came not. I determined to wait no longer. Though hardly daring to hope that my injured wife would forgive me, yet I longed to throw myself at her feet, and sue for pardon. I called my servant and told him to send for the clergyman.

"He replied, 'Mr. Percival is below, and will wait upon you.'

"Something in the manner of the man alarmed me, and sinking back in my chair, under an apprehension of I knew not what, I impatiently awaited my visitor. He came in, kind and gentle as ever, and sat by my side.

"'You promised,' said I eagerly, 'to tell me of my Imogen.'

"'I have come for that purpose, my son,' and again he paused.

"'Mr. Percival,' I said, catching hold of his hand, 'Have you no compa.s.sion?'

"He put his handkerchief to his eyes. '_She is at rest!_'

"I sprang from my chair, and stood before him, only half comprehending his meaning. 'Where?' I tried to articulate.

"He pointed upward. * * * * *

"I pa.s.s over the agony of that period. It was a long, _long_ time before I could be reconciled to life. I could not endure the thought of leaving the grave of my lost Imogen, and I sent my steward to England for our children. My sympathizing friend, Mr. Percival, had directed me where to find them. The steward returned with you, my son; but from that time to the present, I have never been able to find the least trace of the little Inez. She had started for England with her nurse to meet you, who were there with our friends, and though I caused the strictest enquiries to be made, and advertised in the papers for many months, yet nothing could be learned. She was probably wrecked in a vessel reported as lost at sea about that time.

"This loss was, however, but slight compared with the one which from the hour I heard it, to the present, has pressed upon me with a mountain weight. The conduct of your mother was so spotless, that, notwithstanding the intimacy of Mortimer in the family, not a breath of calumny had ever fallen on their intercourse. The loss of her parents had been blessed to her soul, so that for a year she had been a humble Christian. She came and watched over me during my sickness in the disguise of a nun, the physician enforcing perfect silence as the only condition of her presence. She arose from her bed to look upon me once more, and then returned to the parsonage to die of a broken heart.

"My dear son, Eugene, I have now concluded my brief sketch of my crimes, and of your mother's virtues. No motive less powerful than the desire to do justice to her memory, together with the hope that you may be enabled by the grace of G.o.d to avoid the one and to imitate the other, could have induced me to make a record of this portion of my life.

"I have with great satisfaction observed that in the sweetness and urbanity of your disposition, you resemble your lovely mother. Could I feel that religion guided, and governed your thoughts and actions; that the instructions I have endeavored to impress upon your mind, would be sanctified to your heart by the Holy Spirit; that the daily and hourly prayers I have sent up to heaven in your behalf would be accepted, and answered, then indeed I could lay me down and die in peace.

"Oh, my dear son! Take warning by my crimes; by the sudden blighting of all my fondest hopes; by my premature old age; but above all, by the agony of remorse, which has in the prime of life, brought my gray hairs in sorrow to the grave; take warning never to be governed and controlled by pa.s.sion. Never allow yourself to be influenced by what is falsely called "_honor_," to raise your hand against your fellow.

"In every event of life you have a sure guide in the word of G.o.d. Read it, my son; read it daily; read it prayerfully; endeavor to conform your life to its precepts; so shall you be useful in life, peaceful in death, and happy through all eternity.

"And now, my dearly beloved son, _farewell_! Though my sins have risen up to heaven, yet the blood of my crucified Saviour has sufficed to wash away their guilty stains. I leave myself with him, trusting solely in his righteousness for pardon and salvation.

"Soon I hope to receive my summons to resign my earthly tabernacle, and to join my Imogen in forever singing praises to him who died to redeem my guilty soul.

"Eugene, my son, _Eugene_! FAREWELL!!"