McElvina and Susan are supporting the sufferer in his last agonies; and as he writhes, and his beseeching eyes are turned towards them, supply the water, which but for a moment damps the raging fire within.
The surgeon has retired from his useless and painful task--habituated to death, but not to such a scene as this.
The vicar, anxious to administer religious balm, knows that in excruciating torture his endeavours would be vain, and the tears roll down his cheeks as he turns away from a sight which his kind heart will not allow him to behold.
Emily is on her knees, holding Seymour"s hand, which, even in his agony, he attempts not to remove. Her face is lying down upon it, that she may not behold his sufferings. She speaks not--moves not--weeps not--all is calm--deceitful calm--her heart is broken!
And there he lies--"the young, the beautiful, the brave in one short hour to be:--
"A thing O"er which the raven flaps her funeral wing."