But it was during the severe winter months when the ice-bound shores of the island sequestrated its inhabitants from all the rest of the human race, and allowed neither going forth nor coming in, that the society of Julius Luxmore was considered the very greatest acquisition to the enjoyment of the family. During the short days, when they could not venture from the house, Mr. Luxmore would play chess or backgammon with the old man all the morning; read to him and to Etoile all the afternoon, and recount for their amusement his adventures by sea and land, all the evening. Thus he rendered himself almost indispensable to the house. It was in the fifth year of Julius Luxmore’s residence upon the Island, that an important event occurred, which shall be related in the next chapter. CHAPTER XXXV. EUTHANASY. “Methinks it were no pain to die On such an eve, when such a sky O’er-canopies the west. To gaze my fill on yon calm deep, Then like an infant sink to sleep On earth my mother’s breath.”—_Old Poem._ The circumstance alluded to at the close of the last chapter, was the death of Monsieur Henri De L’Ile. It was early in the autumn of the fifth year of Julius Luxmore’s residence on the Island, that the old man departed to the better land. His decease, as is frequently the case with the extremely aged, was sudden and painless. His death was as beautiful as his life had been beneficent. And this was the manner of his falling asleep. Upon the afternoon of the first of October, he had, in company with his niece and his friend, partaken of a slight supper of coffee, cakes, and fruit. He lingered awhile in the piazza, listening to Etoile’s guitar. At the close of her song, he smiled, laid his hand upon her bright curls, prayed God bless her, and then calling his pet spaniel, he walked out to his favorite arbor seat of late Bourbon roses, to sit and watch the golden autumnal sun go down behind the distant shore of Northumberland. He remained out so much longer than usual, that Madeleine went forth to seek him.