Mrs. Greaves now directed her attention to me. 'Oh! you're the young gentleman as the poor woman wished to see, are you? Well, I'll prepare her to see you; she can't speak, I'm afraid, by this time.' She beckoned me into the passage. 'Lord love you!' she said in a loud whisper, 'she can't last out the night. I hope you're not a near relation, for I shouldn't like to hurt your feelings; but the truth must be told she's going very fast.'

Here Mr. Greaves, who had been waiting in the passage, up-cast a pair of large, dismal eyes, till the whites were alone visible. Is she worse,' he inquired, recovering his vision, 'than Mrs. Wokey the night before'

'She died?' cried his wife, anticipating the termination of the sen tence. Greaves, Mrs. Wokey was nothing like her. Why, you know, we didn't think that would be so soon.'

Mr. Greaves pointed to an indentation in the wall: 'Made by the coffin,' he remarked, raising his brows.

'So it was,' assented the wife. But, come this way, young man. Mr. Greaves, don't you go out till I come down;' and she led the way to the apartment of Mrs. Ludlow.

She was, indeed, greatly changed, and for the worse. Unused to the varying appearances of sickness, I could scarcely have imagined that so perceptible an alteration could have taken place in so short a time as the period of a few hours since I had last seen her.

She motioned me to a chair by the bedside, and made a sign to Mrs. Greaves to leave the room. The woman did so slowly, and with an apparent reluctance, softly closing the door. When the door was closed, I was as perfectly assured that she was listening, as though I had seen her ear through the keyhole.

'I hope, sir,' began Mrs. Ludlow in a faint voice-in a voice so faint, indeed, that Mrs. Greaves must have been during our colloquy in an ecstasy of tormentingly unsatisfied curiosity, I hope, sir, you will not think I have been too free in sending for you; but I think-I really think now that I am dying, Mr. Ludlow will do anything you bid him -I know he will. Oh, sir! intercede for me with him, for his forgiveness.'

Here she was much affected, and could not proceed for some minutes. 'I feel at last,' she resumed,' do not withdraw your hand, Mr. Savage, if I presume to take it,-at last I feel-how fully, how deeply, I cannot tell you, that there is no hope for my poor sinful soul in the other world, if I do not obtain his pardon. He was ever too good to me. Oh, sir!' she looked imploringly at me, 'do help to save my soul!

I was touched, and involuntarily returned the pressure of her hand. 'Do not say another word,' I exclaimed, rising; 'I will go to him this instant. There was a Providence, madam, in your unexpected meeting, and it must be fulfilled.'

She gave me a look of gratitude; and I left her.
I related to Ludlow what had passed between us.

'She thought it necessary there should be a mediator?' he said, and his face brightened up, but was again overcast. 'Oh, no! but I am glad she chose you. Richard, not a word of forgiveness has passed these lips; I am too much of a man for that; but now that she is dying--' 'You will forgive all her faults,' I said, taking him by the arm.

The dying have no faults-except to heaven!' he exclaimed ; 'oh! my dear fellow, live, and you will know that, when those you love are taken from you. You don't know,' he added, in a familiar tone, 'how I loved that girl.'.

'Yes-yes, I do,' I replied; 'come, you will see her now, will you

not?'

"There was that Bennett,' he said, halting at the door,-' if ever I were to go mad, that dead wretch, dead as he is, would make me so,— he loved her. No-no-I wont think of that. The wretched creature, Dick, the frightful face-the abject-mean-base-oh, God!' and he took me by the shoulders, ' am I human? am I a man? do I want more vengeance? It is here,' striking his bosom. 'Let no one say revenge is sweet.'

'We lose it at the moment we detect,'

poor Ludlow would, perhaps, have added, had Pope written the line then, and had Ludlow read it. That was his feeling. I led him upstairs. He trembled violently as he approached the bed on which his wife lay. He was silent, expecting her to speak. She appealed to me with her eyes. One word, Ludlow, it may be the last.'

'Do not leave the room,' he said, turning to me; you shall see that I am not ashamed.'

He dropped upon his knees by the bedside.

'Jane,' he uttered, 'I forgive you; but that is nothing. It is God who forgives. I pray for you. I hope what I say makes you happy. I hope you are happy.'

She wept abundantly. His frame was shaken by emotion.

'What can I do?' he said, rising. Can I say more?—from my heart I cannot. Could I talk cant to her,' he proceeded, drawing me to the other end of the room, and wringing my hands,—' vile, horrid cant, and tell her how happy we might have been,—how miserable we are,— all that makes a death-bed agony,—it would kill her. Stay; let me go to her. Jane,' and he took her hand and kissed it, 'I forgive youoh! I forgive you. I would kiss your lips, my poor-poor girl, but --I cannot,' coming to me. 'All that I can do or say would torture her. Would it not? See-I have killed her.'

Mrs.

Mrs. Ludlow had fainted. I rang the bell vehemently. Greaves entered on the instant. I dragged my friend from the room, as the woman exclaimed, 'She is dead!'

Mrs. Greaves came down to us after a short time.

'She has revived,' she said; 'but I don't know

I motioned her to be silent.

'The doctor is here,' she continued, and what can be done will be done; but, after all—

'There is no certainty in this life,' said Mr. Greaves, who had entered unperceived.

Ludlow insisted upon my staying with him all night, and Greaves was despatched to Myte with the intelligence.

I had neither time nor disposition on that evening to scan the meaning of Myte's reply, which the solemn landlord, I doubt not, delivered with exemplary correctness, and which was in these words; Tell him he may stay as long as he pleases, and please himself as long as he stays.'

Mrs. Ludlow outlived that night, and fluctuated during three or four days, when, much to the surprise of us all, and by no means the least so to Mr. and Mrs. Greaves, the doctor declared her out of danger.

Upon this, I prevailed upon Ludlow, whose faculties during the interval of suspense had been almost prostrated, to let me go to Myte, if only for a few hours. By this time a letter might be lying for me from Burridge. I could not altogether relinquish that hope.

'Mr. Savage,' said Mrs. Greaves, intercepting me in the passage, as I was going out, a strange man has been inquiring whether you live here, and he wanted to take Greaves to the tavern, who can go there very well without his assistance, I can tell you. I expect he'll be brought home a corpse one of these nights.'

From Mr. Myte, I dare say,' I said. A thought came across me that it might be Burridge. I questioned the woman, but her description (accustomed, as we all are, to accommodate the making out of another to our own wish,) in no respect tallied with my original.

I was puzzled; but thought no more of it at the moment. And so poor Mrs. Ludlow is better,' said Mrs. Greaves. 'Very much,' I replied. She will do now.'

'Picking up, greatly?' said Mrs. Greaves.

Oh, yes; an excellent appetite.'

She drew near to me, and with a sagacious shake of the head, and her forefinger in action- The very worst sign in the world. Poor man! I pity him. You will see-she will go off in her chair one of these days, after a hearty meal.'