is ears there was the roaring of mighty
waters. All the waves and the billows were going over him. For a few
moments he struggled desperately with the black, advancing tide. His
sight failed, it was growing dark. Then he threw the last forces of life
into one terrible cry, and fell, as a great tree falls, heavily to the
ground.

The cry rang through the house. The mother, trembling in her bed;
Charlotte, crouching upon the stairs, fearing and listening; the
servants, chattering in the kitchen and the chambers,--all heard it, and
were for a moment horrified by the agony and despair it expressed. But
ere the awful echo had quite subsided, Charlotte was at her father's
side; in a moment afterwards, Mrs. Sandal, sobbing at every flying step,
and still in her night-clothing, followed; and then servants from every
quarter came rushing to the master's room.

There was no time for inquiry or lamentation. Harry and two of the men
mounted swift horses in search of medical help. Others lifted the
insensible man, and carried him tenderly to his bed. In a moment the
atmosphere of the house had changed. The master's room, which had held
for generations nothing but memories of pastoral business and sylvan
pleasures, had suddenly become a place of sorrow. The shattered pipe
upon the hearthstone made Charlotte utter a low, hopeless cry of pain.
She closed the shutters, and put the burning logs upon the hearth safely
together, and then locked the door. Alas! alas! they had carried the
master out, and in Charlotte's heart there was a conviction that he
would never more cross its threshold.

After Harry's first feelings of anguish and horror had subsided, he was
distinctly resentful. He felt his father's suffering to be a wrong to
him. He began to reflect that the day for such intense emotions had
passed away. But he forgot that the squire belonged to a generation
whose life was filled and ruled by a few strong, decided feelings and
opinions that struck their roots deep into the very foundations of
existence; a generation, also, which was bearing the brunt of the
transition between the strong, simple life of the past, and the rapid,
complex life of the present. Thus the squire opposed to the indifference
of the time a rigidity of habits, which, to even small events, gave
that exceptional character which rarity once imparted. He felt every
thing deeply, because every thing retained its importance to him. He had
great reverence. He loved,