When I say difficulty about the heart, I do not mean any of those
sentimental maladies of that organ which figure more largely in romances
than on the returns which furnish our Bills of Mortality. I mean some
actual change in the organ itself, which may carry him off by slow and
painful degrees, or strike him down with one huge pang and only time for
a single shriek,--as when the shot broke through the brave Captain
Nolan's breast, at the head of the Light Brigade at Balaklava, and with a
loud cry he dropped dead from his saddle.
I thought it only fair to say something of what I apprehended to some who
were entitled to be warned. The landlady's face fell when I mentioned my
fears.
Poor man!--she said.--And will leave the best room empty! Has n't he got
any sisters or nieces or anybody to see to his things, if he should be
took away? Such a sight of cases, full of everything! Never thought of
his failin' so suddin. A complication of diseases, she expected.
Liver-complaint one of 'em?
After this first involuntary expression of the too natural selfish
feelings, (which we must not judge very harshly, unless we happen to be
poor widows ourselves, with children to keep filled, covered, and
taught,--rents high,--beef eighteen to twenty cents per pound,)--after
this first squeak of selfishness, followed by a brief movement of
curiosity, so invariable in mature females, as to the nature of the
complaint which threatens the life of a friend or any person who may
happen to be mentioned as ill,--the worthy soul's better feelings
struggled up to the surface, and she grieved for the doomed invalid,
until a tear or two came forth and found their way down a channel worn
for them since the early days of her widowhood.
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