ETHEL CHURCHILL.
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CHAPTER XX.
THE SICK-ROOM.
'Tis midnight, and a starry shower
Weeps its bright tears o'er life and flower;
Sweet, silent, beautiful the night,
Sufficing for her own delight.
But other lights than sky and star,
From yonder casement gleam afar;
The lamp subdued to the heart's gloom
Of suffering, and of sorrow's room.
Since the commencement of her son's illness, Mrs. Courtenaye had never quitted his bedside, but when exhausted nature forced her to take that repose from which she shrunk. To-night she took her accustomed place; for, during the night, no vigilance could satisfy
