Page:The Indian Orphan.pdf/6

though every blow struck on my heart as the farewell to happiness, the last words of hope. They bore the corpse away; and as the physician forbade my attendance at the funeral, I watched the procession as it passed the window. The muffled drums, the dead march, seemed sounds from the grave; stately figures paced with slow and solemn steps; with their arms and eyes bent down silently to the earth, I saw them move onward; I lost the sound of the heavy measured tread, I only caught a distant tone of the now faint music. I sprang forward in desperate eagerness; the sun was at noon; my head was uncovered, yet I felt not the heat: I followed, and reached the grave as they were lowering the body to its long, last home. The whole scene swam before me, and I was carried back insensible by some who recognised me. On my recovery I was coldly informed that my father's property, left wholly mine, insured me a small, but independent fortune; and that his will expressed a wish for my immediate departure for England, assigned to the care of a Mrs. Audley, a distant relation of his. Every thing was prepared for my departure: an orphan, with not one either to love or be loved by, I was perfectly indifferent to my future destiny. The evening before I embarked, I went to bid farewell to my father's grave; there was a storm gathering on the sky, and the hot still air and my own full heart, oppressed me almost to suffocation. There was no light, save from the fireflies which covered the mansion, or from the dim reflection of the red flames which had been kindled