Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXVII, No. 3, September 1850Various
General
Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXVII, No. 3, September 1850
Various
Literature -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals
Brough was gone; and with a strange sickness of fear, Coulter turned to
the spot where Elijah Fields lay, to all appearance, dead. But he still
lived. Coulter tore away his clothes, which were saturated and already
stiff with blood, and discovered the bullet-wound in his left side,
well-directed, and ranging clear through the body. It needed no second
glance to see that the shot was mortal; and while Coulter was examining
it, the good preacher opened his eyes. They were full of intelligence,
and a pleasant smile was upon his lips.
“You have seen, Richard, the wound is fatal. I had a presentiment, when
we parted this morning, that such was to be the case. But I complain
not. Some victim perhaps was necessary, and I am not unwilling. But
Frederica?”
“She lives! She is here; unhurt but suffering.”
“Ah! that monster!”
By this time the old couple made their appearance, and Frederica was at
once removed to her own chamber. A few moments tendance sufficed to
revive her, and then, as if fearing that she had not heard the truth in
regard to Coulter, she insisted on going where he was. Meantime, Elijah
Fields had been removed to an adjoining apartment. He did not seem to
suffer. In the mortal nature of his hurt, his sensibilities seemed to be
greatly lessened. But his mind was calm and firm. He knew all around
him. His gaze was fondly shared between the young couple whom he had so
lately united.
“Love each other,” he said to them; “love each other—and forget not me.
I am leaving you—leaving you fast. It is presumption, perhaps, to say
that one does not fear to die—but I am resigned. I have taken
life—always in self-defense—still I have taken life! I would that I
had never done so. That makes me doubt. I feel the blood upon my head.
My hope is in the Lord Jesus. May his blood atone for that which I have
shed!”
His eyes closed. His lips moved, as it were, in silent prayer. Again he
looked out upon the two, who hung with streaming eyes above him. “Kiss
me, Richard—and you, Frederica—dear children—I have loved you always.
God be with you—and—me!” He was silent.
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