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Page 63
Ad�le, who had listened more patiently than she was wont, now turned
and glancing at Aunt Patty, saw that she really looked humble and
wishful, and two great tears were in her eyes.
"Well, I will see", said she, struck with this new phase of Mrs.
McNab's countenance. She went into the apartment, where they had just
laid Mr. Somers upon a bed.
In a few minutes, she returned.
"The doctor says it will be of no use, Aunt Patty. But Mr. Lansdowne
would like to make an attempt to restore him. So come, mamma and I
will help you".
Notwithstanding Mrs. McNab's subdued state of mind and her genuine,
unselfish wish to do all in her power to bring consciousness to the
stricken form, she could not avoid, as she made one application after
another, making also a few indicative observations to Mrs. Dubois.
"Did ye hear what the preacher said to the young mon as we cam' alang?
He's a mighty quick way o' desmeesin a' bonnie creetur like this out
o' the warld and sayin' he's satisfied aboot it".
"That was not what the missionary said, Mrs. McNab", replied Mrs.
Dubois. "He said that Mr. Somers is happy now. He is in Paradise, and
we must not wish him back. He is satisfied to be with Jesus and the
angels and his own mother. That is what he meant. And does he not
_look_ satisfied? See his blissful countenance!"
Mrs. Dubois leaned over him a moment, and thinking of his sister, Mrs.
Lansdowne, parted his hair with her pale, slender fingers and
imprinted a kiss on his forehead.
All efforts to restore warmth, or life to that marble form were in
vain, and at length they covered his face gently, until the day-dawn.
John sat by the bedside, his head buried in his hands, until morning.
He thought over all his past companionship with this youthful Uncle
Ned, of his pleasantness, wit and fascination, of his generous spirit,
of his love for his mother and himself, and wondered at the awful
strangeness that had thus fallen, in a moment, between them. Then the
thought of his mother's bitter grief swept over him like a flood and
nearly unmanned him. Like the drowning man, his brain was stimulated
to an unwonted activity. He lived over again his whole life, in a few
minutes of time. This dread Power, who had never crossed his path
before, shocked him inexpressibly. Who of the young, unstricken by
sorrow, ever associates death with himself or with those he loves,
till the Arch Reaper comes some day and cuts down and garners his
precious treasure?
John had heard of death, but he had heard of it just as he had heard
of the poisonous Upas-tree, growing on some distant ocean island, or
of an evil star, under whose baleful influence he might never fall.
The young live as if this life were immortal. So much the more bitter
their experience, when they wake up from the delusion.
The others of the party were gathered in an adjoining room, gazing
silently at the scene without. It was fearful, yet sublime. The whole
northern side of the Miramichi river, for over one hundred miles, had
become involved in one mighty sheet of flame, which was sweeping on in
swift destruction to the Gulf of St. Lawrence. The river boiled with
the fierce heat and tossed its foaming waters, filled with its now
lifeless inhabitants, to the shore. The fire was fed by six thousand
square miles of primeval forest,--a dense growth of resinous
trees,--by houses and barns filled with crops, and by thriving towns
upon the river's bank.
Above all, the people could not put aside the horrible truth, that
hundreds of men, women, and children,--their friends and their
acquaintances,--were perishing by the all-consuming element. They
could not exclude from fancy, the agonized and dying shrieks of those
dear to them, and the demoniac light shone on countenances, expressing
emotions of pity, grief, horror, and despair.
While the missionary sat there waiting for the day, he recalled with
startling distinctness the wild dream he dreamed, on that first night
he spent at the Dubois House. Of course, his belief in foregleams of
future events was confirmed by the scenes transpiring around him.
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