





Transcribed from the 1896 Smith, Elder and Co. edition by David Price,
email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk.





LIZZIE LEIGH
by Elizabeth Gaskell


CHAPTER I.


When Death is present in a household on a Christmas Day, the very
contrast between the time as it now is, and the day as it has often been,
gives a poignancy to sorrow--a more utter blankness to the desolation.
James Leigh died just as the far-away bells of Rochdale Church were
ringing for morning service on Christmas Day, 1836.  A few minutes before
his death, he opened his already glazing eyes, and made a sign to his
wife, by the faint motion of his lips, that he had yet something to say.
She stooped close down, and caught the broken whisper, "I forgive her,
Annie!  May God forgive me!"

"Oh, my love, my dear! only get well, and I will never cease showing my
thanks for those words.  May God in heaven bless thee for saying them.
Thou'rt not so restless, my lad! may be--Oh, God!"

For even while she spoke he died.

They had been