This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
ETHEL CHURCHILL.
141

holding the wan hand, whose pulsation grew feebler every moment. Lord Norbourne stood beside, and watched his last, his most beloved child, dying before him; his last hope, his last sweet link of affection breaking.

"It cannot be!" exclaimed he, in a burst of uncontrollable emotion: "so young, so very young, to die! Tell me that your skill can save her, and take all I have in the world!"

The physician took his hand, and strove to draw him aside; but the attempt caught the eye of the sufferer; she strove to raise herself, and extend her hand to her father, but it dropped heavily on the coverlid.

"Let him stay!" said she, faintly; and, looking towards the physician, continued: "I know I am dying, but death is not yet in my heart. Can you not give me a moment's strength? any thing to dispel, for a little while, this faint sickness? A few words are all I want to say, I cannot die without saying them!"

"Let her have her own way," whispered the medical man; and, pouring a few restora-