ABSTRACT
Some part of every day Mr. Evans spent with Lord Ravensdale, whether his lordship was able to rise or not. On that preceding his intended journey, his lordship sent for him up to his bed-chamber; he was exceedingly low, and much agitated by some inward oppression of his mind, which Edward imputed to the shock his nerves sustained from the late deaths in his family. When he spoke of his deceased children, he wept much, yet took a pleasure in dwelling on the subject. Edward, who was no bad preacher, drew some arguments of consolation from religion; but here he found he touched upon a string which added to the sufferings of the unhappy peer, and, instead of consolation, seemed to drive him to despair./
is was a melancholy discovery, since of all mortal miseries religious despondency is the greatest. He had the power, however, for the present, to sooth his anguish, and to divert his mind from its gloomy contemplations. When he announced his departure for the next morning, his lordship said he sent for him on that account, to remind him of his promise to return before Christmas, and to spend the winter. ‘God knows,’ said he, ‘whether I shall live to see you again. In that case, however, Mr. Evans, you will nd I have not forgot you.’ Edward was embarrassed, but was going to make some reply, when Lord Ravensdale interrupted him:
‘My dear friend!’ said he, ‘I consider you as an adopted child. When my poor George died, he le you to me as a legacy. In this pocket-book,’ said he, drawing one from under his pillow, ‘is a small sum that was due to him, and which I was intending/ to send to him, when I received the melancholy news of his death. I desire you will receive it as his last acknowledgement for your tenderness and friendship in the hour of his extremity.’
