The doctor came in and administered ether, which partially revived her.

I have never been able to inhale it since, without feeling sick and faint, and recalling the deadly odor of that chamber of mourning.
About daybreak, I heard Dr.Harlowe say in the lowest whisper to Mrs.
Linwood that _she_ could not live more than one hour.

He turned the hour-glass as he spoke.

She had collected all the energies of life in that parting interview,--nothing remained but a faint, fluttering, quick-drawn breath.
I sat looking at the hour-glass, counting every gliding sand, till each little, almost invisible particle, instead of dropping into the crystal receptacle, seemed to fall on my naked heart like the mountain rock.

O my God! there are only two or three sands left, and my mother's life hangs on the last sinking grain.