As I have told you, for six hours before his death his sufferings
ceased. He dozed a little. I think he dreamed. Once or twice he smiled.
A woman's name, as I suppose--the name of "Ella"--was often on his lips
at this time. A few minutes before the end he asked me to lift him on
his pillow, to see the sun rise through the window. He was very weak.
His head fell on my shoulder. He whispered, "It's coming!" Then he said,
"Kiss me!" I kissed his forehead. On a sudden he lifted his head.
The sunlight touched his face. A beautiful expression, an angelic
expression, came over it. He cried out three times, "Peace! peace!
peace!" His head sank back again on my shoulder, and the long trouble of
his life was at an end.
So he has gone from us. This was, as I think, a great man--though the
world never knew him. He had the sweetest temper I have ever met with.
The loss of him makes me feel very lonely. Perhaps I have never been
quite myself since my illness. Sometimes, I think of giving up my
practice, and going away, and trying what some of the foreign baths and
waters will do for me.
It is reported here, that you and Miss Verinder are to be married next
month. Please to accept my best congratulations.
The pages of my poor friend's Journal are waiting for you at my
house--sealed up, with your name on the wrapper. I was afraid to trust
them to the post.
My best respects and good wishes attend Miss Verinder. I remain, dear
Mr. Franklin Blake, truly yours, THOMAS CANDY.