on of her child's features shook her frame
--if he moved, she dreaded the instant crisis; if he remained still, she
saw death in his torpor, and the cloud on her brow darkened.

The poor little thing's fever encreased towards night. The sensation is
most dreary, to use no stronger term, with which one looks forward to
passing the long hours of night beside a sick bed, especially if the
patient be an infant, who cannot explain its pain, and whose flickering
life resembles the wasting flame of the watch-light,

Whose narrow fire
Is shaken by the wind, and on whose edge
Devouring darkness hovers.[5]

With eagerness one turns toward the east, with angry impatience
one marks the unchequered darkness; the crowing of a cock, that
sound of glee during day-time, comes wailing and untuneable--the creaking
of rafters, and slight stir of invisible insect is heard and felt as the
signal and type of desolation. Clara, overcome by weariness, had seated
herself at the foot of her cousin's bed, and in spite of her efforts
slumber weighed down her lids; twice or thrice she shook it off; but at
length she was conquered and slept. Idris sat at the bedside, holding
Evelyn's hand; we were afraid to speak to each other; I watched the stars
--I hung over my child--I felt his little pulse--I drew near the
mother--again I receded. At the turn of morning a gentle sigh from the
patient attracted me, the burning spot on his cheek faded--his pulse beat
softly and regularly--torpor yielded to sleep. For a long time I dared
not hope; but when his unobstructed breathing and the moisture that
suffused his forehead, were tokens no longer to be mistaken of the
departure of mortal malady, I ventured to whisper the news of the change to
Idris, and at length succeeded in persuading her that I spoke truth.

But neither this assurance, nor the speedy convalescence of our child could
restore her, even to the portion of peace she before enjoyed. Her fear had
been too deep, too absorbing, too entire, to be changed to security. She
felt as if during her past calm she had dreamed, but was now awake; she
was

As one
In some lone watch-tower on the deep, awakened
From soothing visions of the home he loves,
Trembling to hear the wrathful billows roar;[6]

as one who has been cradled by a storm, and awakes to find the
vessel sinking. Before, she had been visited by pangs of fear--now, she
never enjoyed an interval of hope. No smile of the heart ev