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“Poor-poor girl! can you delude yourself into the creature who had been the sole companion and gentle belief, that spring will bring with it health to this worn soother of many weary hours, to suffer him, after the and feeble frame? Could I once more see the home of first anger had passed away, to be inaccessible to her my childhood, with its bright sky above me, its fresh appeals, had they ever reached him. green earth beneath my tread, methinks this deadly It was the second winter of Lucile's exile from the languor that creeps over me daily, would be dispelled. paternal roof, but it was the mild and delicious winter Oh Lucile-Lucile! mine has indeed been the life of the of a tropical climate. General Montressor was alone visionary dreamer: my dreams were mere fantasies, but in the room which his daughter had been wont to inthe bitter and stern realities of life are killing me; and habit; and every thing remained just as Lucile had left I have dragged you from your home to dwell in this it. Even the marble vase, which she had filled with wretched place, the partaker of my hapless lot, and, oh, fresh roses the evening of her flight, was still there—the my adored, its only solace: without thee, what would faded flowers offering a sad memento to the heart of be my fate ?"

the father. His brow bore many additional wrinkles, Lucile was weeping bitterly. All the horrors of her and his hair was white as silver: the outward signs lot were revealed to her! Him she had abandoned her that the proud spirit had not gone through the ordeal father to wed, was dying before her, a victim to her unscathed. rashness. Had she remained with her parent, Sidney He walked up and down the floor with a troubled had not met with such a fate. He would have remain- expression of countenance, then stopping beside a ta. ed in his adopted land, beloved, assisted by her father; ble, on which refreshments were placed, poured wine but her consent to become his, had doomed him to die into a goblet, and quaffed it at a single draught. among strangers, and amid the bitter struggles of penu- "Aye,” said he, speaking half aloud, "let me ry. Yet if her's was the fault, her's also was the pun-drink-drown thought in the ruby wine, for I have ishment; for what were his sufferings to those of her now no other consolation. Forsaken by all-by Heawho watched over the fading form, saw the eye each ven, there's not one grain of gratitude in the whole huday lose a portion of its fire, the spirit of its elasticity, man race: and she, too—my child—my cherished one, and yet was denied the privilege of weeping, even when to leave me, and seem to forget that her father is in exthe strong hand of agony was laid on her heart. Her istence! If she had written but once—but one line to brow must be ever cheerful, her smile ever kind, though say that she desired forgiveness, I might-yes, I might they masked a heart“ where sorrow had little left to have relented : but she gave her love to another, and learn." Oh, woman ! thine are the triumphs of affec- all my past tenderness could not keep even one corner tion! the loving heart empowers thee to subdue moral of her heart for me. Then there is my precious neas well as physical weakness. Oh! to her would it not phew too-he has shown me of what stuff his soul is have been far easier to die, than watch day by day tbe made-urging me, day after day, to make my will—the tints of life fade from that beloved face : to hear the uncertainty of life, forsooth-1 may die, and my child hollow cough which sounded in her ears as the death at last get all my wealth-well, and who has a better knell of hope, and yet falter not in her endeavors to right to it?" His soliloquy was interrupted by the smooth their rugged pathway to him over whose fever. entrance of Vietor. ish couch she watched and prayed.

“A good evening to you, uncle," said he, gaily; " you She wrote a last appeal to her father, representing seem moody. Hast any ill news to day ?» the dying state of him she had forsaken all else for ; “No, boy--there is no greater cause for moodiness to but her heart was steeped in despair when she recalled day, than the old and half-forgotten always have." to mind the time it would take for her letter to reach Victor turned away with a half audible expression him, and succor to be vouchsafed to her perishing hus- of impatience, but his good nature appeared 10 overband. He needed medical attendance, such as their come it, and when he spoke, it was in a bland and means could not enable theni to procure ; and, laying soothing tone. aside all thought of self, or the humiliation of seeking “Why, my dear sir, will you persist in faneying employment from that class to which she had once be yourself neglected or forgotten? The duty and affeelonged, she one morning set out with the determination tion of a son, I am sure I am always glad to render to 10 procure needle-work, if any one could be found who you, and if I have seemed neglectful of late, it is be would entrust it to her.

cause my time is taken up in attending to the estate you have so kindly bestowed on me.”

A smile of irony curled the thin lips of the uncle.

“That estate, if I mistake not, joins my lands on CHAPTER XIII.

one side, and those of Baptiste Moreau on the other; Dark and unearthly is the scowl

yet, if I am rightly informed, Mr. Victor Montressor That glares beneath his dusky cowl : The flash of that dilating eye

finds time to sit many hours each day with the darkReveals too much of things gone by.

haired daughter of the old Frenchman. Have a care, Byron.

sir, I tolerate low connexion in my nephew no more In the meantime, what had become of the lonely than I have done in my daughter. This Moreau was father ? Had he in reality cast off the being who had but few years since a barber in Havana, and his been of his “home the breathing star ?" Could he aban- daughter is no match for you.” don the “sole daughter of his house and heart," with- The nephew laughed, as he answered, “Faith, out yearning to know what fate had overtaken her ? uncle, I am sorry that your prejudices are so violent

, Ah, no! stern, uncompromising though he was, there as to make you illiberal on some subjects. Beauty and was in his heart too deep a fund of tenderness for the gold are sad levellers, and in truth, the graces of An

nette Moreau have won my pride to her feet. I could of his patron was turned on his face. He was about not look on her majestic brow, and fancy myself her to reply, when a large snake glided across the pathway, superior, despite the accident of birth. She is a quon- his horse reared and threw him against the body of dam barber's daughter-I a spendthrill's son ; she has a tree. He lay motionless, with a stream of blood beauty and wealth to bestow-I high birth, and by slowly oozing from his temple. your munificience, a competence to offer—so I think Dismounting, and calling to the hands in a neighborwe're pretty even, and to speak truth, I came this eve- ing field for assistance, General Montressor had him ning to invite you to my wedding."

conveyed to the house, and despatched a messenger Victor had expected a storm of passion, but his for a physician. uncle spoke calmly, yet with much sarcastic emphasis. It was some hours before consciousness returned :

“I commend your foresight, nephew. You act on on opening his eyes, and encountering the fixed gaze the principle of the old adage, I presume, that'a bird of his patron, he made an effort to raise himself on his in the hand is worth two in the bush.' Well, I cannot elbow, and motioned to the attendants to leave the blame you, and I am not sorry that I have placed it room. The physician spoke: out of my power to throw you off as I did one who “You must be perfectly quiet, father, or I cannot should have been far dearer to me. You are provided answer for the consequences.” for, Victor, and I need scarcely say, that after a mar- “Your skill cannot save me,” said he in a hollow riage, wbich you knew would be so displeasing to my voice. “I know that I am dying—another sun will prejudices, if you will, you need not trouble yourself to never rise for me and I have that to communicate to call again, as your interest can be no further served by General Montressor which must be told. In the hour doing so."

of my triumph-long looked for-long hoped-death And thus they parted. With the facility of a com- has struck me: send out the servants, and you, doctor, mon-place character, in transferring his affections, Vic- stay by me to administer such restoratives, as I may tor had been easily won to forget his passion for his need, until my task is finished." cousin, when she was no longer near him; and think- The room was soon cleared, and he then requested ing it better to obtain a fortune by marriage, than the doctor to hand him a letter box, which was beneath depend on the precarious favor of an old man, who the head of the bed. With slow and trembling fingers had been so severe toward his only child, he wedded he raised the lid, and took from it a number of letters, the wealthy creole : yet Victor was not deficient in which he held out to General Montressor, and, sinking good feeling, and spite of his uncle's prohibition, he back on his pillow, said—“Read them, while I collect still continued to visit him occasionally.

my scattered thoughts, and remember what else I have The old man passed the remainder of the winter in to say." loneliness and dejection. His spirit was quite broken Montressor took the letters in silence, for he recog. by what he considered the desertion of his nephew, nized the writing of his daughter, and he saw that they and he was only withheld from seeking his daughter were addressed to him. The last one in the package, by ignorance of her present place of residence. He appeared to have been written more than two months : had no companion but the priest, who irritated rather it was the last agonizing appeal of Lucile, written with than consoled him, by his constant allusions to the the belief that Sidney was dying before her,-and ingratitude of his daughter and nephew.

every word went as a dagger to his heart. He read it, One evening, early in the spring, they rode out to- and approaching the bed of the dying man, and bendgether. For the first time, the pride of the father per- ing his face over him, distorted with anguish, he spoke mitted him to inquire of the monk, if he had any clue in tones of such concentrated passion, that even the to the residence of his daughter.

iron nerves of the priest for an instant quailed “None, whatever,” said he promptly. “In being “ Vile--vile wretch! serpent, that I have nourished, turned from her father's doors, the pride of Miss Mon- that you might sting me to death, where is my child ? tressor received too deep a stab to be forgotten, or for. Have you relieved her wants ? or-horrible thought!given. She has concealed herself from all her former has she perished in that strange land, to which my obfriends."

duracy exiled her ? Speak-or I will strangle you as General Montressor checked his horse, and looked you lie there, too helpless to assist yourself. Why around him, and his brow contracted as with a sudden have you acted so base a part toward your benespasm-speaking as if to himself, he said: “What is factor ?" my wealth to me? I lie down with sorrow pressing on The dark glittering eyes of the priest gleamed with my heart, whieh drives sleep from my pillow-I rise an expression of intense hatred, as he repeated the to drag through another tedious, miserable day, with last word, in a tone so wild and unnatural, that his nothing to look forward to. Yet I deserve not sympa- listeners shrank back with a thrilling sensation of awe. thy, for I feel that I have myself banished peace from “Benefactor! ha! ha! ha! yes many and great are my heart--sunshine from my home. Father, this hour the benefits you have conferred on me, and I-God! if I knew what spot of earth held my child, I would have I not requited them !" Raising himself with sudbe willing to make a pilgrimage barefoot, and beg the den energy, he drew from his bosom a faded miniature, morsels that sustained life, could I once more clasp her and holding it up, said to my heart in safety.”

“Gerald Montressor, do you know this ?As the priest listened to the words wrung from the General Montressor strode a step nearer, and an bitterness of his sorrow, there was a sneer on his lip, exclamation escaped his lips. “It is--it is Marion ! and a flash of triumph in his eyes, which was instantly and you ? Good heavens, is it possible !" changed to an expression of sympathy, when the gaze “ 'Tis true,” gasped the priest ;--"I am he whom you rivalled and the desolator of your house. I have my end is accomplished, and why should I repent! I not-lived-in vain."

die not before my mission is fulfilled. I go to the rest He sank back exhausted, and the physician hastened of a dreamless slumber that knows no awakening, to administer a restorative. He presently revived, and while you live to unavailing sorrow and remorse.” motioning Gen. Montressor to be silent, he continued General Montressor left the room; and in a few

“Let me speak while strength is left me. In an evil more hours, the infidel, who for purposes of his own, hour, Montressor, you won from me the beloved of my had profaned the sanctity of the religious garb, breathed whole life; and I swore to be avenged. I sought your his last, amid curses and blasphemy too horrible for bride-I poured on her all the bitterness of a spirit words. wrought to madness by her perfidy. I left her, and Within a week, General Montressor embarked for burying my name and existence under this priestly the United States. His object was to find his daughgarb, I caused the report of my death to be circulated. ter--alleviate her sufferings--and then set every enShe died-and I stood beside her grave, and felt that gine in motion to discover his son. my vengeance was incomplete on him who had wrested her from me, so long as her child lived to glad the heart of its father.”

CHAPTER XIV. “Wretch!” said Montressor, between his closed

Then I came to a solitary chamber in which a girl, in her tenteeth; "and do I also owe the destruction of my son derest youth, knelt by the bedside in prayer, and I saw that the to you ?”

death-spirit had passed over her, and the blight was on the leaves A smile of bitter meaning played over the pale lips of the rose. The room was still and hushed : the angel of pu. of the dying man.

rity kept watch there.

Bulwer. “No-my revenge was more refined. I doomed Nearly fainting with fatigue, a young and delicate him--thy son, to a life of penury, passed among the looking woman entered a shop, in one of the most lowest of the earth. I bribed his nurse to inform you fashionable squares in Philadelphia. A lady of prepasof his death—I saw them safely embarked for America. sessing appearance, was examining some exquisitely He lives Perchance—but how ? Vulgar-uneducated-- wrought purses, one of which she designed purchasing ha! a fitting heir for your proud name !"

for a bright-haired boy, who stood beside her. The Montressor buried his face in his hands and the stranger sat down by the stove, for the day was pier. priest remained silent some moments; when he again cingly cold, and scarcely able to support herself in her spoke, his voice was low and feeble.

seat, she leaned her head on the back of a chair which “Come nearer to me, Montressor, for I grow weak, stood near her. and my eyes are dim—they cannot see that proud form “Dear mamma," said the boy, “this one with the writhing with agony, nor mark the workings of that wreath of roses and blue forget-me-nots that look so haughty spirit, which has placed you so entirely in my beautiful, shall be my birth-day gift to papa. Praypower. I followed you in all your wanderings, and at pray buy this.” length fastened myself on you as your household chap. “Certainly, my son, if you wish it. Wrap this up, lain. You wedded a second time, and a fair daughter if you please," said she, laying the price of the purse on grew in beauty by your side. I loved this child, spite the counter. As she turned to leave the shop, the of my sterner nature, for she twined herself unconsci- figure of the young stranger attracted her attention. ously about my heart; and when the hour came, when “Do you wish any thing here, young woman?" inI could also rob you of her, I shrank from the task, for quired the girl who waited behind the counter. The it also involved her ruin : yet I tore this feeling from person addressed raised her head, and the low, soft tones my heart--1 worked on your pride, and her affection in which she spoke arrested the retiring steps of the like an evil spirit I whispered into the ear of each lady. what hardened the heart against the other, and the re- “Do you give out work here ?" sult was what I anticipated. You threw her from "Not to strangers,” was the reply; and the girl your protection, and I withheld her letters-taught you busied herself in putting up the various fancy articles to believe her so engrossed in her new ties, that she | which lay scattered before her, heedless of the effect eared no more for you-and-and-'tis my conviction, her answer had produced. that she has gone down to her grave, execrating the The applicant clasped her hands, and murmured cold-hearted and obstinate father, who withheld from her audibly-the very means of life, while he revelled in all the luxu- “Then Heaven help me, for I can do no more!" ries that wealth can purchase. I have done.”

She arose, and the strange lady obtained a glimpse “And you think your vengeance is complete,” said of her colorless features, and was struck with the viMontressor--his habitual self-command enabling bim common beauty of the countenance, though suffering of to speak with calmness. “No-priest, or devil, which- no ordinary kind was legibly imprinted there. She ever you may be, if there is a God in Heaven, your advanced a step as if about to speak, but checked here foul treachery, your base ingratitude toward him who self, as if fearful of wounding where she desired to suchas befriended and trusted you—who never voluntarily cor. With a head reeling with weakness, and falter injured you, will yet be baffled. I will seek both son ing steps, Lucile entered the street. She had been and daughter, trusting to that providence which brings away some hours, and feared that Grey was even now disappointment to the wicked. For you, I will not needing her attention. She did not observe that the tell you to die and join him who is your fitting compa- strange lady had entered her carriage, which stood at nion, but repent, and make your peace with Heaven." the shop door, and was slowly following her. When

“Repent!” repeated the priest, scornfully. “No-- Lucile entered her humble abode, the lady made a memorandum of the street and the number, then speak- | can be bestowed on him, and on that frail

, fair creature, ing to the driver, she ordered him to go home as speed who is wearing herself out in his service. I will order ily as possible. In a short time, the carriage drew up the carriage to be in readiness immediately after dinner.” in front of a splendid mansion in Chesnut street, and As soon as possible Miss Wilmere equipped herself lightly springing up the steps, she encountered a gen- for her intended visit. tleman at the door, who laughingly said

“I shall return with them both,” said she, as she “Why would you not allow me to exhibit my gal sprang into the carriage; “so be prepared to receive lantry? I was hastening to offer my services in assist them.” ing you to alight, when lo! with fairy-like step, you In half an hour, she was safely set down before the have reached the door, while my more mundane body dwelling she sought. Attracted by the unusual circumwas perambulating the length of the hall: but what stances of a fine carriage stopping in the neighborhood, good news bring you hither, fair lady of my thoughts? a number of women and children came out of the Your face is radiant with tidings glad, if I read it houses around to see who it contained. As Miss Wil. aright."

mere alighted, a red face, with a soiled cap above it, “News which you will be pleased to hear, dear was thrust through the half opened door, and a voice Horace--so come with me. Is Caroline in the draw. in keeping with the countenance, inquired who she ing-room ?"

wanted. “ Yes, she has just returned,” replied the gentleman, “Does Mr. Grey live here ?” said the young lady. throwing open the door. “Enter, and divulge–di. “Mr. Grey? What—the painter-man? Why, what vulge--my curiosity is on tip-toe.”

should the likes of you want with him ?” “Briefly, then, I have seen the original of Caroline's “Never mind, my good woman, what I want; only Gipsy-have traced her home, and imagine from her be kind enough to direct me to his wife's apartment.” appearance, and the house in which she lodges, that “Oh, that's easily done, tho' 'two'nt be his 'partment she is in a state of destitution.”

nor hern much longer: folks as don't pay reg'lar don't An exclamation of pleasure escaped the gentleman— stay in my house ; so I told her this mornin' they might “What! you have found Grey out at last! Well, I am tramp as soon as they liked, or mayhap a little sooner, heartily rejoiced to hear it.”

if they wasn't in a hurry. This way, ma'am.” "And I too,” said Miss Wilmere, throwing aside a As she spoke, she led the way up several dirty and book, and coming eagerly forward. “Where? How ill-lighted flights of steps: they ascended to the highest did you find them? Tell us all."

story in the house, and the woman knocked several The relation was soon given, and the three seated times at a low door. No answer was given, and openthemselves around the fire, to devise means of succor- ing it without ceremony, she thrust her head in. ing the unfortunate artist, without wounding the shrink. “I would'nt wonder if the gentleman was dead, and ing pride, which had induced him to withdraw himself for the matter of that his wife too,” said she, as she from all association with those who had known him in drew back into the passage. better days.

“Heavens! I hope not!” said Caroline, and involunThe lady who had so fortunately met Lucile that tarily stepping forward, she stood within the room. morning, was no other than Mrs. Edmonds, the wife of On a low, miserable bed, in one corner, lay the attenthe same gentleman who had been so much interested uated form of Grey: his hair clung in damp masses to in Grey's appearance the morning that his uncle's will his high and strongly marked brow--his pale lips were was read. He had made many subsequent inquiries slightly parted, and bis thin hand grasped the bed after the artist, but could obtain no information, and an clothes. Disease, sorrow, and want, had laid the strong absence of more than a year in one of the southern man low, while the more frail being had been supported cities, had almost obliterated the remembrance of the by the strength of a love which only woman's heart is young painter from his mind, when the picture pur-capable of feeling. Beside the bed knelt Lucilechased by Miss Wilmere, and her account of Grey, her hair hanging loosely around her, and her head renewed his interest, and he made every effort to dis- buried in the miserable covering: she heard not the cover his abode. The hope of aiding him had just words of the woman, nor the light footstep of her unexbeen abandoned, when Mrs. Edmonds saw Lucile, and pected visiter. instantly recognized the resemblance to the picture. At a glance, Miss Wilmere saw that it was not That she beheld the wife of the artist, in the delicate death on which she looked, but the heavy slumber and shrinking form before her, she did not once doubt, which is brought to the feverish and restless couch by and she determined not to lose sight of her, until she artificial aid ; and the phial of laudanum, half emptied, had discovered her present residence.

which stood on a chair beside the bed, sufficiently exThe family of Mr. Edmonds accompanied him to the plained the scene. She glanced around the desolate south, and only a few months had elapsed since he was apartment. The evening sun was shining cheerily on recalled by the death of Mr. Wilmere, who was a part- the bare walls and uncarpeted floor; and his beams ner in the same firm to which he belonged, and also an had nearly extinguished the few coals which lay on the uncle of his wife.

hearth. Around the room ranged in order were the After a long consultation, Mrs. Edmonds arose- paintings of the artist-many of them unfinished—but

“Well, it shall be as you wish, Caroline: as you are all placed in such a position, that from his couch he already slightly known to Mr. Grey, it will be best to could look on them. suffer you to visit them alone, and offer such services as “Place them so that my dying eyes can rest on you may think proper. I fear that he is ill; if so, insist them,” said he to his wife. “Let the glorious dreams on having him brought hither, where proper attention that have visited my fancy, and which I have endeavored faintly to shadow forth, be around me, in that was at last overcome, and I prayed that he might be last hour when these failing orbs shall close on this released from his sufferings, though I shall then be bright world, to be veiled in the cold-cold grave. With how desolate! only the searcher of all hearts may thy hand clasped in mine, and those creations of my know." There was a meek and touching resignation pencil before me, I think I can bear to die, though I in the tones of the speaker, which went to the heart of leave no name to other ages: the poet's epitaph-that of Miss Wilmere. that young bright spirit, crushed by the injustice of “I have then come in the hour you most needed the others, will be a fitting one for me : ‘Let my name be support of sympathy and affection--and, believe me, it as though 'twere writ in water. Ah, Lucile ! Lucile! I is not too late to whisper hope for your husband. have now but one wish, and it is for thy welfare, my Change of abode, with proper attention, may entirely beloved. When death kindly releases my suffering restore him. Mr. Edmonds, the gentleman in whose spirit, if he would fold both in the same chilling embrace, behalf I came hither, is already acquainted with Mr. I should be happy-for then all cares would be ended, Grey, and, as the friend of his late uncle, offers him an and thy love rewarded by being united even in death asylum in his house. The carriage is waiting at the to him over whose waning life you have so tenderly door, and my cousin is prepared to receive you as her watched.”

guest : the love you bear your husband will not permit In one corner was the painter's easel, and on it was a you to refuse: you cannot so wound me." half-finished picture of a child at play; and the bright She took the passive hand of the pale sufferer in both laughing face, sparkling with childish glee, was in her own, and overcome by the voice of sympathy, to striking contrast with all around it.

which she had long been a stranger, Lucile burst in Miss Wilmere took in the whole scene at a glance, tears. The sudden revulsion of feeling, from despair and hastily retreating, she said to the woman, “You to hope, was too much for her overwrought sensibility, may retiré-he only sleeps. I will knock and arouse and had not tears come to her relief she must have his wife.”

fainted. The woman speedily disappeared, and she tapped The arrangements of Miss Wilmere were soon comslightly on the door. Lucile started from her kneeling pleted, and when Grey awoke from the stupifying position, and hastily winding her hair around her head, effects of the laudanum, he opened his eyes on a very advanced to see who demanded admittance.

different scene from that on which they had closed. “Mrs. Grey, I believe," said the graceful stranger, He was in a spacious apartment, furnished in the most presenting her card. Lucile bowed, though at a loss luxurious manner, and heated to a temperature more to know who Miss Wilmere could be, and what had congenial to his feeble frame, than he had long felt. induced her to seek one, who had abandoned the hope He looked around him in bewildered silence. The of mercy or succor from any mortal hand. She silently fading sunlight was flickering through the half drawn placed a seat for her guest, and sank on another herself. curtains, and, stranger than all, there hung his beloved Some moments elapsed before Miss Wilmere com- pictures, and there, too, in the opposite corner, stood the manded herself sufficiently to speak. She at length easel, with the face of childish beauty, which even in said

his illness he had loved to look on, for that breathed of “Mrs. Grey, I came hither partly on my own behalf, hope, where all else was dark as suffering and misforand partly as the ambassador of my cousin, to-to-tune could render it. He raised his hand to put back In short, my dear madam, my intrusion on the sacred- the bed curtain, and in an instant Lucile was beside ness of your grief sufficiently explains itself. I can him. With a half shriek of hysteric joy, she threw have but one motive, which is to be a friend, a sister to her head on the pillow, and in a voice, broken by strong one who needs the consolations of friendship." emotion, related to him the change in their situation,

“It is too late,” replied Lucile, pointing, without and a prayer of thankfulness arose from his grateful any appearance of emotion, to her sleeping husband. heart to Him who had raised up friends to them in the “Had the offer been sooner made, it might have bene- hour of their greatest need. fitted him—now I fear he is past all hope. I feel--I A physician had been called in, and a few moments know that he must die, and I have no wish to survive after Grey awoke, he arrived. He carefully examined him. Your succor comes too late, lady: there lies the the case, but declined giving a positive opinion as to his wreck of as noble a spirit as ever breathed ; broken by chances of recovery. want-bitter, bitter want; and the consciousness that "A few more days, and I can judge better," said he. he had that within him which would lead him on to “The constitution of Mr. Grey has been much shatgreatness, if a little of the sordid gold that makes the tered, and long and unwearied attention, aided by a eliworld's wealth, had not been denied him. This morn- mate much milder than the one we inhabit, may evering I left him, with a faint hope that I might be enabled tually restore him. Of that, however, I can better to gain a few comforts, such as the sick need, by devot- judge some days hence.” ing the hours of his sleep to my needle, but every face Mrs. Edmonds considerately concealed from Lucile, was turned from the stranger-every heart hardened that any doubts were on the mind of the physician, as against her. In vain did I ask for work, which might to his perfect restoration to health, and when a milder save us from perishing, and I returned home, if this climate was spoken of, her husband inquired of her if miserable place can be called a home, to see him stupi- Italy would suit the inclinations of Mr. Grey? fied by laudanum: losing only in such slumbers the “He can there recover his health, and prosecute bis gnawing sense of pain, which the skill of a physician studies at the same time," he continued ; " and your might alleviate, but which we are unable to command. my dear Mrs. Grey, must overcome the too scrupulous I have knelt beside his couch, and my own selfish heart I delicacy which may lead him to refuse from me such

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