" But does he consider, in the step
which he is about to take, of the arrow which will pierce that mother's
heart? He walks the room with a quick tread; he does reflect, and pities
his mother from the bottom of his heart, praying that the blow may fall
gently; but he has shipped for a voyage in the Nautilus, and this night,
at high tide, she will sail.
Noiselessly he ascends to his room, and taking his clothes from the
drawer, where they had been placed with care, makes them into a bundle,
not forgetting the little bible, which was given him by his mother only
the day before, as a birthday gift. Pausing in the upper hall, he
listens, if he may get one last faint sound from those he holds so dear;
but save the uneasy slumbers of Vingo, nothing is heard. All is now
ready for his departure; stepping into the parlors, where hang the
portraits of the family, he takes a farewell of each. The Sea-flower and
his mother! his eyes fill with tears, and his heart is swelling into his
throat; he is upon the point of retracing his steps, when his eye rests
upon the features of his father. The daring boldness of the expression,
which the artist had but too well portrayed, fires him with fresh
courage; every nerve thrills with new life, and kissing the inanimate
canvas, as if it were indeed his dear mother and sister, he tore himself
away from home.
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