Page:Records of the Life of the Rev. John Murray.djvu/116

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106
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY.

My credit failing, my wants multiplying, blessed be God, my Eliza was ignorant of the extent of my sufferings; she would have surrendered up her life, even if she had feared death, rather than have permitted an application to either of her brothers; yet was I, by the extremity of my distress, precipitated upon a step so humiliating. Stopping at a coffee-house near our brother William's, I penned a hurried line, requesting he would give me an immediate meeting; and sending it by a porter, I waited, in agony indescribable, its effect. Almost instantaneously he entered the coffee-house, and, without uttering a word, took a seat; nor was I for some moments able to articulate. My soul was tortured; he saw it, and could not avoid feeling. At length he questioned, "Pray what is the matter?" Your sister is very near her end, and, were we both so, it would be to me cause of exultation, and you would have been spared this trouble. My application to you will be a sufficient explanation of my circumstances; and should you think proper to call upon a once dear, now dying sister, I have to request, you would not notice my having sought this interview, it would embitter the last moments of her life. He was amazingly shocked, yet, as this was the first syllable he had heard of her indisposition, he flattered himself my fears had magnified the danger; but he assured me, he would see her without delay. I however desired he would grant me time to prepare her for his visit; it must, said I, appear entirely accidental, and I hastened to our lodgings. I met your brother William, my love, who, having heard you are indisposed, kindly inquired after you; I think he means to visit you. "If, my precious friend, you have not descended so low, as to ask any favour of him, I shall be glad to see him." I will not, my love, do any thing, which I ought not to do. I sat down by her bedside. That face, upon which strangers had gazed enraptured, was now the seat of death's wan harbinger, and her struggles to conceal her sufferings were but too visible. Quitting the room, I inquired of the nurse, how she had been during my absence? She told me, she had endured much pain, was very anxious for my return, and expressed a fear, that she should never again behold me. I was summoned by the mistress of the house, who was so charmed by the deportment of my Eliza, and had conceived so great an affection for her, as to find it difficult to quit her apartment. But my suffering friend, taking my hand, and drawing me near her, whispered a wish, that we might be alone; I gave the good lady a hint, who instantly withdrew. I kneeled by her bedside: she drew me closer to her, and throwing her feeble, her emaciated arms around