Explore "The Upton Letters" by A.C. Benson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Diary, Jan. 15. -- A week ago, while I was writing the above unfinished lines, I received a letter to say that my friend Herbert was dead -- he to whom these letters have been written. It seems that he had been getting, to all appearances, better; that he had had no renewed threatenings of the complaint that had made him an exile. But, rising from his chair in the course of the evening, he had cried out faintly; put his hand to his breast; fallen back in his chair unconscious, and, in a few minutes, had ceased to breathe. They say it was a sudden heart-failure.
It is as though we had been watching by a burrow with all precaution that some little hunted creature should not escape, and that, while we watched and devised, it had slipped off by some other outlet the very existence of which we had not suspected.