the last things she had touched?) and putting it on the table, smoothed out its ruffled pages with his trembling fingers. His face grew, if possible, a shade paler than before, as he perceived that out of one corner a small piece had been torn. He remembered having seen the fragment in his wife's hand, when assisting to carry her to her own apartment. By some mysterious instinct his eye roved over the letterpress. What was it that suddenly made him start, and put his hand to his side with a gesture of the uttermost agony? what was it that wrung from him that low cry of deep, heart-rending despair, as he sank down upon a couch, and, covering his face with both his hands, writhed like one who suffers the intensest bodily torture? The paragraph he read contained a simple account of the foundering of the Burdwan, a vessel bound for Africa; and summed up with those oft-repeated but sadly emphatic words, "All on board perished." After mentioning a few particulars, the paper went on to say, 66 Among the passengers who have thus met with an untimely end, we regret to see the name of a gentleman who was going out on the part of the 'Lanchester African Exploration Society,' in connection with the propagation of the Gospel. The qualifications requisite for such an important expedition were, we understand, possessed by this gentleman in an eminent degree. Actuated by a truly missionary spirit, his first grand object consisted in being the instrument of disseminating religious instruction; but in addition to this leading feature in his truly exalted character, his high literary attainments, the clearness and intelligence of his general views (to say nothing of his topographical sketches, as proved by a book recently published on this interesting subject by the afore-mentioned society, which will be sufficient to raise the name of Mr. Herbert Seymour. This, then, was the climax. These the words which dropped like glowing metal upon his heart. Poor unhappy father! was it not enough to account for that terrible moaning cry which issued from his bloodless lips, "Desolate-desolate! bereft of all-all! O God! my punishment is greater than I can bear!" Thus the hours rolled away; for despair, like joy, takes no note of time; and everything else was forgotten-everything but his own inexpressible and all-absorbing misery. And so it came to pass that Willson's gentle knock was unheard, or if heard, disregarded. Fortunately, however, Mr. Seymour had, in anticipation of her requiring his assistance, purposely left the door unlocked; and when Willson discovered this, and also found that her plea for admission was unresponded to, she thought it better to enter without waiting for his consent. Accordingly she stepped quietly into the room, and, going close up to him, tried to gain his notice by touching him on the arm. His disordered dress, and pale, haggard looks, as he turned suddenly round on being thus disturbed, would have told her that he had watched the same live-long night, even if she had been previously ignorant of the fact. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, and his voice sounded like some far-away echo; "do you wish to reproach me again?” "I reproach you?" repeated the old woman, recoiling a step, and regarding him in wonder and dismay. "Yes; did you not accuse me of breaking her heart?" he aske1, hoarsely. "No; not for the world would I say such a cruel thing," replied Willson, gazing tearfully at his bowed and bent figure, so unlike what she had ever seen it before; "God knows your suffering is intense enough without that." Nevertheless, it is the truth," returned Mr. Seymour, in a hollow voice; "it is I alone," he added, setting his quivering lips tightly together, "I alone who murdered her. But for my harshness, and injustice, and tyranny "Stop, oh, stop!" exclaimed Willson, coming eagerly forward; "I want to tell you "You need tell me man; "I know it all! nothing," gloomily interposed the anguished Look here-this is what killed her, and I— wretch that I am-I was the cause of it." As he spoke, he pushed the newspaper into the old woman's hand, pointed significantly to the paragraph above referred to, and then resumed his former moody attitude. "There is something I don't understand here!" thought Willson, as she fumbled in her pocket for her spectacles, and having found them, tremblingly tried to adjust them on her forehead. "I can hardly recognise him in this unusual frame of mind; he seems quite a changed character! What can it all mean?" Her mild eyes fastened themselves upon the paper with an expression of the deepest anxiety; but it was some time before she could find out what it was he wished her to see. At last she caught Herbert's name, and this led her to study the page with additional earnestness. "O God!" she gasped, tottering forward as the painful truth dawned upon her, "is there no perfect happiness in this world?" "Perfect misery, rather," groaned the unhappy man. "But it cannot be!" added Willson, in a tone of feverish excitement. "I will not believe it!" And she once more took the paper into her trembling hands, hoping, it may be, to discover that her first conclusion had been an erroneous one. Ere long it dropped from her nerveless grasp, and with a halfsmothered cry she fell fainting on the ground. Her reason had already been stretched to its full tension, and this sudden re-action from joy to sorrow was too much for her feeble frame to sustain. Mr. Seymour, who appeared stunned and bewildered by such an unexpected occurrence, remained gazing at her for a while with an expression of extraordinary surprise and visible agitation of manner; but his energy seemed entirely to have abandoned him; for he made no effort to restore her to consciousness, and the poor creature might have lain there for an indefinite length of time had not his attention been at length arrested by a smart tap at the door. He started up then, and locked it, without looking to see who claimed admission, and, going into a small dressing-room adjoining the library, he brought from thence some water, which he poured upon Willson's face. The shock revived her, and when five minutes had elapsed she was able to sit up and think. Her face was deadly pale, and the anxious lines about her mouth and the sad wistfulness of her sunken eyes showed that though she tried to dissemble her emotion, she could not wholly succeed. "Well, we must think of the living now." These were her first words, uttered in the tone of one still struggling with some fierce disappointment, and yet resolved on concealing the fact from others. "We must think of the living, sir; " and she placed her hand upon Mr. Seymour's arm for the purpose of getting him to regard her with more attentiveness. "The living!" he dreamily repeated, "who are they? Without appearing to hear this question, Willson continued,"Did you ever hear of any one coming to life again, sir, after being to all appearance dead?" Mr. Seymour stared at her in manifest perplexity. 66 My good Willson," he said soothingly, "go and rest yourself; you are trembling all over." "But won't you answer me first, sir?" she replied with increased earnestness. "She little knows how irksome her presence is to me," thought Mr. Seymour. "Poor creature! these trials have, fear, unhinged her mind ;" and, rising from his seat, he tried to escape from her by walking to the other end of the room. She followed him with a repetition of her former question. An impatient exclamation came to Mr. Seymour's lips; but he checked it as he remembered the kindness and devotion she had always shown to his wife, and in a gentle tone he inquired,— "What is it you want me to tell you?" A bright crimson flush appeared on her faded cheeks, as she again asked, "Did you ever hear of any one being restored to life after being considered dead?" "Yes; such things have happened, I believe; but "Well, sir, listen to me for a moment. Supposing your dear lady had after all not been dead, but merely in a sort of trance” "Willson, why will you torture me?" exclaimed Mr. Seymour, with a gesture of pain. "And supposing," pursued the old woman, paying no heed to this interruption, "it should please the Lord to restore her to you—” "For God's sake forbear, or you will drive me as mad as yourself!" cried the unhappy man, with a face of ashy paleness. "Because of your kindness to her, Willson," he went on, forcing himself to proceed in a gentler tone, "I will promise to do everything in my power to render you happy and comfortable; but don't "It's little that I shall want in this world," tremulously answered the old woman; "but if you will try to forget your own sorrows for a minute or two, and listen carefully to what I am about to tell you, you will be conferring on me the greatest boon I can crave!" “Say on, then,” replied Mr. Seymour, heaving a sigh of unutterable anguish; "I will do my best to follow you." Willson needed no second bidding; but, commencing from the moment when he had left her alone with the dead, she recapitulated everything that had since occurred. While she was speaking, Mr. Seymour's chest heaved convulsively; the blue veins stood out clear and distinct upon his pallid brow, and his breath came in quick, short gasps. Not one syllable did he utter until she had finished; and then, going swiftly up to her, he took her by the shoulder, and, drawing her to one of the windows, pulled up the blind, and fixed his eyes keenly and searchingly upon her worn face. Apparently satisfied with his investigation, he turned away and— oh! strange, unwonted sight!—he wept aloud! I believe these tears were the first he had shed since his childhood. "How shall I ever be able to repay you, Willson!" he said, in a husky voice, approaching her when his emotion had somewhat decreased, and taking her hand with a gesture of the utmost respect. "Thank Him!" she replied, pointing upward. "Oh, I do thank Him most fervently for affording me an opportunity of redeeming the past," returned Mr. Seymour, in a voice of solemn earnestness. "But that, alas, I can never do," he added, a shade of the deepest melancholy overspreading his countenance. "He is gone for ever, and she—oh, I fear she will never cease to hate me, Willson." "There's no use in anticipating evils," said the good woman, wiping her own eyes; "they come soon enough without that; besides __ "` "Besides what, my friend?" "Well, I was going to say, that from something I heard the doctors say, I think there is a chance of my mistress having forgotten what led to her illness." "But even then it will be nearly as bad," observed Mr. Seymour, with a troubled and uneasy look; “she will naturally consider that it is I who am still preventing him from coming Before he could add more, another knock came to the door; and Willson, thinking there might be news of her mistress, hastened to open it. She found Mrs. Morby standing outside. "The doctor wishes you to return to Mrs. Seymour immediately," said that individual, in her usual calm and dulcet tones. "We have procured some kind of concentrated nourishment, which he thinks will be of much service to her if she can be induced to take it; but she refuses to receive it from me, and seems, by the inquiring glances she keeps throwing round the room, to be asking for you." "May I accompany you-just to take one look at her?" pleaded Mr. Seymour, as Willson was about to leave him. "Well," was her slow and hesitating answer, "if you will keep out of sight, and promise not to utter a word, there can be no risk in your doing so." Eagerly he gave the required assurance, on the strength of which the old woman undertook the responsibility of admitting him into his wife's chamber, without consulting Dr. Leslie on the subject. Mr. Seymour kept his word. Without being himself perceived, he saw enough to relieve him from the weight of suffering which had been occasioned by his wife's supposed death; and though he still felt, and ever would feel, the most poignant anguish when he reflected upon Herbert's untimely end, he could not but rejoice in knowing that there was now, at least, a prospect of her being once more restored to him. CHAPTER LXXI. THE OLD GALLERY, AND ITS HISTORY. Takes the ears that are hoary, WALTER SCOTT. GREAT was the excitement that prevailed among the servants of the establishment, when Mrs. Morby formally announced them the satisfactory change which had been effected in Mrs. Seymour's condition. Wonder, doubt, incredulity, amazement, and awe, were all in their turn expressed; and in consideration of the important part Mrs. Willson had played on the occasion, she was unanimously voted a perfect, heroine! Browning also came in for his meed of applause ; though, to use his own words, he only did what Willson told him. "And that was the best thing you could do," remarked the cook, with an approving smile. "What a fortunate thing it was," said Browning, confidentially addressing himself to the impressible Juliet, who was actually shedding tears of joy, "that she insisted on sitting up every night!" Juliet silently assented. "And it is still more fortunate," continued the valet, "that she set her face so determinately against having the poor lady put into the coffin until the day before the funeral." "That's what I can't understand," exclaimed Ursula, who had caught these last words. "Mrs. Morby," turning to the housekeeper, "is it really true that she was the cause of the delay?" "What delay?" she demanded, by no means pleased at Browning's want of politeness, in carrying on the conversation in a tone too low for her to hear. Ursula explained. "Yes, indeed she did object," observed Mrs. Morby, appearing for the first time struck with the idea; "not that she had the smallest hope or expectation of this happening; but it seems she has always felt an unaccountable repugnance to look upon any one, however dear they may be to her, after they are once placed in their coffin. I am told she acted in the same way when her former mistress (Mrs Seymour's mother) died." "In the present case, 'twas a most providential thing," observed the old butler, passing his hand hastily across his eyes. "You may well say that," rejoined Ursula, in a tone of unfeigned earnestness; "in my opinion, it has been the saving of the poor lady's life-the very sight of the coffin would have been enough to kill her." |