CHAPTER VII.

SICKNESS AND DEATH.

The debauch of the previous night laid the foundation of disease, from which Charles never recovered. On the following day he seemed at times wild, and partially deranged. A violent fever set in, and for many days he was confined to his bed. His sufferings were extreme; so high did his fever rise that it seemed as though the fire within would consume him. His physician watched the progress of his disease, and did all in his power to restore his health. The fever ran its course, and the crisis came. There was a change for the better. It was thought that he would get up. The hopes of his parents were revived; and many were the wishes that, with restored health, there might be a reformation of manners. Of this, however, there was little prospect.

These hopes of a recovery were soon cut off. Charles's disease assumed a new form. He was taken with a cough, and night-sweats followed. His eyes were a little sunken, but full of expression. His countenance was pale, and, slightly tinged with blue, gave evidence that consumption had marked him for its victim, and that the grave must soon swallow him up: he was rapidly sinking into the arms of death.

Toward the latter part of his sickness, a rude contrivance was adopted to change his position in bed. Two hooks were driven into the ceiling, over the foot of the bedstead. To these pulleys were attached. These pulleys were rigged with cords, one end of which was made fast to the upper part of the bed. By hoisting on these cords he could be raised to any desired angle; and, instead of being bolstered up, he hung as if in a hammock. [See Frontispiece.]

During his illness Charles gave little evidence of any change in his feelings. No sorrow was expressed for anything in his past conduct. He was still fretful, still obstinate. He appeared like one early sold to sin.

The minister of the parish came in to pray with him. He found him ignorant of spiritual things. He talked to him on the subject of religion,--urged him to prepare to meet God. He offered prayer by his bed-side. He left him, however, showing very little evidence of penitence, and entertaining for him very little hope.

Charles lingered along till early in March. The day of his departure came. The father and mother bent over his bed: they saw that the hopes which they entertained at his birth were now to perish. Instead of his closing their eyes in death, they were now to perform that office for him. He spoke not. Oppressive stillness reigned in the room. Not a sound was heard, save the rattling in the throat of the dying youth. The last breath was drawn; life, for a moment, quivered upon his lip. The spirit took its flight; and the poor mother, in anguish of soul, exclaimed, _"He is dead!"_