, therefore, remained for me to do, but to take leave of
my fellow-pupils and Dr. Mildman. After shaking hands with Lawless and
Mullins (the former assuring me, as he did so, that I was certain not
to be late, for he had succeeded in securing a trap, with a very spicy
little nag in it, which would have me there in no time) I hastened to
take leave of my tutor. The kindhearted Doctor inquired whether I had
sufficient money for my journey, and, begging me to write him word how I
got home, shook me warmly by the hand, saying, as he did so, "God bless
you, my boy! I trust you may find your father better; but if this should
not be the case, remember whose hand it is inflicts the blow, and strive
to say, 'Thy will be done'. We shall have you among us again soon, I
hope; but should anything prevent your return, I wish you to know that I
am perfectly satisfied with the progress you have made in your studies;
and, in other respects, you have never given me a moment's uneasiness
since you first entered my house. Once more, good-bye; and remember, if
ever you should want a friend, you will find one in Samuel Mildman."
The fly-horse proved itself deserving of Lawless's panegyric, and
I arrived at the coach-office in time to secure a seat outside the
Highflyer. After taking an affectionate leave of Oaklands and Coleman,
who had accompanied me, I ascended to my place; the coachman mounted his
box, exactly as the clock chimed the halfhour the horses sprang forward
with a bound, and ere ten minutes had elapsed Helmstone lay at least a
couple of miles behind us.
I accomplished my journey more quickly than I had deemed possible, and
had the melancholy satisfaction of reaching home in time to receive my
father's blessing. The powerful remedies to which they had been obliged
to have recourse had produced their effect; the inflammation was
subdued; but the struggle had been protracted too long, and his
constitution, already enfeebled by a life of constant labour and
self-denial, was unable to rally.
~110~~Having given me a solemn charge to cherish and protect my mother
and sister, he commended us all to the care of Him who is emphatically
termed "the God of the fatherless and widow"; and then, his only earthly
care being ended, he prepared to meet Death, as those alone can do to
whom "to die is gain". When the last beam of the setting sun threw a
golden tint around the spire of the little village church those lips
which had so often br
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