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Various

"The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 10, No. 60, October 1862"

I took his place beside Miss Axtell.
She was no longer wilful or determined. Her strength was gone. Her head
drooped upon my shoulder, and when I held a spoon, filled with the
restorative that I had brought, to her lips, they opened, and she took
that which I gave, mechanically. Her eyelids were down. I looked at the
fair, beautiful face that lay so near to my eyes. It was full of the
softest pencillings; little golden sinuosities of light were woven all
over it; and the blue lines along which emotion flies were wonderfully
arrowy and sky-like in their wanderings, for they left no trace to tell
whence they came or whither led. I heard the heavy, ponderous weight let
fall. It was the same sound as that which I heard on that memorable
night. Miss Axtell shivered a little; or was it but the effect of the
concussion?
The brother came up; he looked down, kindly at me, lovingly at his
sister.
"Shall I relieve you?" he asked.
I folded my arm only a little more tightly for answer, and said,--
"Mr. Wilton will be here soon; he is getting the carriage, to take your
sister home."
"I will go and help him, if you don't mind being left"; and he looked
inquiringly.
"There's no danger. I shall not fall asleep," I said.
"She's harmless now, poor child! If we can only get her back safely!"
And with these words he left me again.


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