added that a mother should be very careful to watch the state of an infant's mouth.

Dorothea had lately been called to other employment than that of attending to the wants of her child.

It was astonishing what relief the poor infant seemed to experience from these two operations: his limbs, which had been burning with fever, were now covered with a gentle perspiration; and the surgeon having caused something to be given him to drink, he seemed inclined to sleep.

The surgeon then took his leave, promising to send some medicine. Margarita followed him out upon the landingplace, to offer him a fee: but he declined it saying, "No, young lady, when I have performed the cure, I shall look for my reward, but not till then. Let the child be kept quiet-I shall come again to-morrow."

As soon as the surgeon was gone and Margarita had returned to the room, Dorothea again embraced and thanked her for her kindness with floods of tears.

But why, my dear Dorothea, did you delay so long? why did you not send sooner for assistance?" said Margarita.

"Because," said Dorothea, renewing her tears, "I was destitute of money.'

Nay," said Margarita, "but why not sell the very clothes off your back for the sake of your child?"

66

“I was afraid of stirring; I was afraid of taking any step, Margarita; you do not know half the horrors of my situa tion," replied Mrs. Freeman.

"I think I do," said Margarita.

No, no, you do not," returned Dorothea. She then directed the servant to go out and stand in the passage, and observe that there were no listeners; when, lowering her voice, she said, “Margarita, there are many writs out against my husband; and the men who are below are empowered to seize him and commit him to prison, if he can be discovered. There is something in the case which I myself do not understand: but he is concealed in this house, and those who are below are, I suspect, aware of the circumstance. They have hitherto however refrained from such close search as might enable them to find him; but if I were to stir from hence, they would be no longer restrained.

Margarita shuddered. "What do you propose to do? this cannot go on long," said she.

"I know not," said Dorothea: "fortune may favour him, he is continually watching his opportunity."

Margarita was silent. She knew not what to say: she knew not what would be right to say. She fixed her eyes on the sleeping infant, and could not help secretly wishing that he might rather die in his present state of comparative innocence, than be brought up amid scenes of horror and confusion like those she now witnessed.

For a few moments all was silent, and nothing was heard excepting occasional bursts of laughter from the parlour below.

At length, a single loud knock was heard at the streetdoor. "That is the man, I hope, with the medicine,” said Margarita.

The door was presently opened, and at the same moment followed a kind of noise in the hall as of one running swiftly. This was instantly succeeded by a loud and tremendous rush of voices and shouts, intermingled with oaths and imprecations.

"Blessed heaven! what can that be?" exclaimed Dorothea.

The noise continued, but appeared to be removed to the street; where the report of a pistol was mingled with the sound of human voices,

Margarita, and Dorothea, and the maid-servant ran halfway down the stairs; they perceived the street-door open, but saw no one: the cries from the street became more faint, as they were more distant. At the same instant the screams of the infant above stairs, being just roused from his balmy and healing slumber, reached the ears of its terrified friends; who quickly returning, found him stretched on his back, while he uttered the most terrific shrieks.

For a few minutes Margarita heard nothing but the soulharrowing shrieks of the child. When at length she recovered herself, she found Edmund standing in the room. Dorothea had fainted again, and the nurse in such a state as rendered her unable to give the slightest assistance.

"Oh! Edmund! Edmund!" said Margarita, "can you give no help? you are a father yourself; can you think of nothing to be done?”

Edmund lifted the child from the bed, carried him about the room in his arms, spoke to him tenderly, and requested that some one would go down and look for the medicine which had been delivered in at the moment of the uproar.

Margarita instantly ran down, and found the bottle thrown on a chair in the hall, the door of which was still wide open: she was going to shut the door and lock it, when a man whom she had not seen before, and who was just standing without in the street, stepped in between her and the door, saying, "Not so fast, young lady, if you please, not so fast. You are a deep one, I see, in spite of your smooth face. However, justice will have its due after all."

"I don't know what you mean," said Margarita.

"O, you don't?" said the man. "But, however, I trust the gentleman will be caught, and then we shall see how things will go." The man then added two or three sentences in a jargon which the young lady could not understand, but with an insolence of manner which made her glad to run back to her friends.

After the infant had received the medicine, it presently appeared more composed, but renewed its cries whenever Edmund attempted to lay it down.

Dorothea had revived while Margarita was down stairs, but the moment she opened her eyes, she renewed her tears. "Oh! the horrors of this night!" she said;-"the complicated horrors of this night! What was the occasion, Edmund, of that dreadful noise below?"

Because, Madam," said Edmund, "at the moment the door was opened to the surgeon's apprentice, a man rushed by and ran into the street."

"And who opened the door?" said Dorothea.

"I did, Madam," said Edmund. "But the men were watching me from the parlour-door."

"And did you favour the escape of the man who rushed by you?" said Dorothea.

"I used no means to detain him," said Edmund, smiling, "I thought I would give all sides fair play."

"And do you think they will overtake him?" said Dor

othea.

"I cannot tell," said Edmund: "but he shot like an ar

row from a bow. Yet I heard a pistol go off at the bottom of the street."

"Well," said Dorothea, sighing bitterly, "I wish he may escape; and if it pleases God to spare me my boy, I shall contentedly retire to some solitude, and there endeavour to make up for my follies by a life of deep repentance."

Margarita could have pointed out to her that some other atonement was required for the crimes of man than mere repentance, even were repentance in a man's own power: but there are seasons in which the mind is too highly wrought to receive new ideas, and therefore she judged it best to be silent.

The baby was now become perfectly silent, excepting that now and then a deep sigh would escape its gentle breast. The rest of the party also were silent; Dorothea continuing at times to weep violently.

At length some of the men returned. They came in grumbling and cursing: but it appeared from what they uttered as they passed through the hall, that they had nothing more than their labour for their pains, having entirely lost sight of the person whom they were pursuing.

The clock of a neighbouring church struck two immediately after the return of these men. Margarita started at the sound, and began to consider her own situation.—“ I cannot return at this hour to Grosvenor Square," she thought; “neither can I leave poor Dorothea in this condition. Nevertheless, I am liable to forfeit every friend I have in the world by what I have done to-night; and yet I could have done no otherwise."

It was three o'clock before the house was perfectly quiet; but by this time the men had fallen asleep in their chairs, having comforted themselves with this reflection:-"If the captain has made a clean escape, it will not be our loss, but that of our employers. If they lose their dues, we can't help it; we must be paid whether or no."

"My dear Dorothea," said Margarita, seeing her cousin somewhat more composed, "now your husband is safe, as I trust he is, you must get your affairs settled, and remove out of this house."

Dorothea began to weep. where can I go?" she asked. receive me!"

"When I leave this house, "O that my mother would

Margarita gave her no hope of this kind, but assured her that she would do all in her power to promote her interest.

Then if I cannot be with my mother," said Dorothea, "I should wish for the deepest retirement."

Then, Madam," said Edmund, who was quietly stepping backwards and forwards through the large and elegant apartment with the baby softly cradled in his arms, "there are two as pretty rooms in our house as can be found in any cottage in the world, and such a fair grove on one side, and a garden on the other, with a murmuring brook running through this last, as, in my mind, is hardly any where to be equalled. And my excellent young lady there," he added, bowing to Margarita as he spoke, "has lately furnished them so prettily and genteelly, that, if you did not esteem such a poor place below your notice, I think you might be very comfortable with us, and we should be most proud to do you service; and little master (if the Lord spare hin) would have plenty of room to play and amuse himself." Edmund reddened up to the eyes when he had made this speech, fearing lest it should not be well taken. But it was well taken. For this proof of affection to the distressed Dorothea, seemed to call out all that was amiable in her nature, and bursting into tears, she said, "Thank you, Edmund. I will think of your plan, and will adopt it; if," added she, with a sigh, "my mother will not see me." Then turning to her cousin, she added, "This is indeed the triumph of The Economy of Charity."

Margarita could make no reply: but bursting into tears, she fell on the neck of her cousin; who, pressing her close in her arms, said, "Give me your heart, my sister, and I shall no longer be poor."

When I look back upon the sheets which I have devoted to this little history, I feel the necessity of bringing the remaining events which I have to relate, into a somewhat narrower compass. With this view I shall shortly tell you that Margarita remained with Dorothea till the morning, and that she then returned to Grosvenor Square. She there learned that Lady Harriet had been much worse, and that her son and Mrs. Dashwood had been there all night; that Augustus Claverton had supped in Grosvenor Square, but had left it after supper, and proposed to proceed in the