642 Passages from the lAfe of Frederick Wellhirg. QDec, 



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He rushed from the door of the confessional. " Damnable tempter !" 

 he muttered ; " I will seek him no more/' and he paced the dark front 

 of the building with a hurried and deeply-agitated step. " Yet he told 

 me that the mark of crime was upon my brow ; that men gazed upon me 

 — shinned — cursed me," and again the thought haunted him. " Has 

 it not withered every feeling ? Am I not without power — without 

 hope ? Yet, to give up her — oh, God, I could not ! to regain peace — 

 to win Heaven, I could not." He approached the open porch ; and as 

 the sound of the full choir swept upon his ear, he passed on and stood 

 within the aisle. They had commenced the service for the dead ; and 

 as he listened to the deep rich voices of the singers, now rising in a 

 burst of passionate supplication, which swelled along the arched roof, and 

 through the long cloisters, until it died away with a wailing sound in 

 the distance, Wellburg's heart beat with a calmer feeling ; and the 

 words of that solemn and affecting service fell like a healing balm upon 

 his spirit. 



He felt a hand placed softly on his shoulder, and he turned round. 

 The stranger stood behind a pillar, which shrouded her from the light ; 

 and as she raised her slight form to his, she placed a finger upon her 

 pale lip, and beckoned him to listen. " There is hope, Wellburg," she 

 at length whispered — "there is hope — doth it not say-f" — for the dead." 

 The painter started, and grasped the hand of the speaker. " Let us 

 kneel," she continued ; " we will pray together for the dead, and for 

 the dying." Her voice assumed a tremulous tone as she uttered the last 

 word ; and she gazed upon him with a faint smile whilst they knelt 

 down upon the carved floor. Wellburg shuddered at the expression 

 which he then read for the first time upon her wasted features. Could 

 it indeed be .'' His Adeline — dying ! and how came she there .'' He 

 gazed upon her ; and, by the light which fell upon her pale face, 

 examined every feature, and watched every flitting grace — for she was 

 still beautiful ; and as the dazzling whiteness of her brow beamed from 

 beneath her dark hair, whilst the soft tinge upon her cheek spake of 

 life, and health, and hope, his heart beat again ; and the cloud passed 

 away from his features. Yet her eye — how bright it was ! and her 

 hand, which lay within its own, so thin and wasted; and her white, 

 wan lips, from which the warm life-blood seemed to have receded for 

 ever. She looked up again, and smiled upon him with a mournful 

 expression ; and then he prayed with her. They prayed together for 



the dead — and for the dying ! 



* * * * * 



She was seated by the fire, and the sick child lay within her arms. His 

 lips were now livid and parched with the fever, whilst his cheeks, except 

 one burning spot, were of a death-like paleness. At times he vittered a 

 low moaning cry ; and again, as he sunk into an uneasy slumber, the 

 sound of his short and painful breathing was all that broke the deep 

 stillness of the apartment. 



Wellburg had resumed his task. It was the painting of a Madonna 

 and Child, and already bore traces of that deep beauty which had once 

 beamed from every production of his pencil. Yet it was no ideal por- 

 trait. The mother, attired in the exquisite softness of matronly beauty, 

 looked down upon the babe, which lay upon her bosom, with a smile 



