The excitement into which Ellen was thrown by the anticipation of meeting her friends once more, may be readily imagined by those similarly constituted with her, and the reaction occasioned by her disappointment, also. Her heart had been entirely fixed upon it, and what but cruelty was it in her husband to deprive her thus so unreasonably of so great an enjoyment--to her so exquisite a pleasure?
In the sudden rush of her feelings, she recalled the last seven years of her life, and could recollect no instance in which she had failed doing all in her power to contribute to her husband's happiness. On the other hand, had he not often wounded her feelings unnecessarily? Had he ever denied himself anything for her sake, but required of her sacrifice of her own wishes to his?
The day wore away, and the night found Ellen in a burning fever. The servant who went for the physician in the early morning, said she had raved during the latter part of the night. As the family physician entered the room, she said, mildly,
"O, do not go and, leave me! I am all ready--all ready. Do not go--it will kill me if you go."
The doctor took her hand; it was very hot; and her brow was terribly throbbing and burning. He remained with her the greater part of the day, but the attack of fever on the brain had been so violent that no attempt for relief was of avail.
She grew worse and about midnight, with the words--
"O, do not go, Mr. Gorton,--do not go and leave me!"--her spirit took its flight.
And the morning dawned on Ellen in her death-sleep--dawned as beautiful as that bright one, when the bell rang merrily for her bridal. Now the dismal death-note's pealed forth the departure of her spirit to a brighter world. Would not even an angel weep to look upon one morning, and then upon the other?
The birds, from the cage in the window, poured forth their songs; but they fell unheeded on the ears they had so often delighted. The voices of Fred and Georgie, ever as music to the loving heart of the young mother, would fall thrillingly on her ear no more. She lay there, still and cold--her dreams over--her hopes all passed by--the sun of her young life set--and _how_?
People came in, one after another, to look upon her--and wept that one so young and good should die. They closed her eyes--they laid her in her grave-clothes, and folded her pale hands--and there she lay!