Indeed, it was long before Angela could be got past the door at night
without shuddering, although Achilles had been obliterated by every
possible method that Felix, Clement, or Sibby could devise, and some
silent tears of Cherry had bewailed the conclusion of this effort of
high art, the outline of which, in more moderate proportions, was
cherished in that portfolio of hers.
Another work of art--the photograph--was safely accomplished. The
photographer caught at the idea, declaring that he had been so often
asked for Mr. Underwood's carte, that he had often thought of begging
to take it gratis. And he not only insisted on so doing, but he came
down from his studio, and took Mr. Underwood in his own chair, under
his own window--producing a likeness which, at first sight, shocked
every one by its faithful record of the ravages of disease,
unlightened by the fair colouring and lustrous beaming eyes, but
which, by-and-by, grew upon the gazer, as full of a certain majesty
of unearthly beauty of countenance.
The autumn was mild, and Mr. Underwood rallied in some measure, so as
sometimes even to get to church at mid-day services on warm days.
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