in Manchester yesterday; she had travelled thither in the night; and she has gone through some scenes of fearful excitement there was a death, which, I believe, shocked her very much, and she has, I am told, been delirious at intervals ever since."

"The lady is married?"

"Yes."

"Her hair must be cut off if this heat of brain continues,” observed the doctor. "What is the lady's name? Can I exchange a few words with her husband ?”

Mrs. Trenmore hesitated.

"Doctor, this is a painful, but not as the world calls it, a disgraceful affair

"Some vinegar, if you please-and a couple of linen handkerchiefs.'

One of the servants attending Emma hurried away.

"What is this?" asked the doctor, in surprise, his eyes suddenly falling upon poor Emma's faded form.

"Hush-she is her mother."

The doctor turned to the bed to attend his patient. The paroxysm was over, and 'Rina, exhausted, lay utterly motionless-seeming scarcely to breathe.

"A most extraordinary case, Mrs. Trenmore!" exclaimed the doctor, watching 'Rina.-You were about to speak of her husband."

"I am afraid her mother will overhear us."

"Lead her into the next room-give her air!" said the doctor, addressing the servants.

The two women bore Emma into the adjoining apartment.

Well, madam?" said the doctor.

"Your patient is the Duchess of Lissborough."

"She who eloped from her husband two days ago?"

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'I believe eloped is the term used by the world.”

"And by yourself?"

"No; in the present instance I should say she who escaped from her husband."

"I do not understand you."

“A nobleman can be a tyrant," observed Mrs. Trenmore. "Assuredly."

"It was a marriage of folly. Youth should unite with youth."

"Without a doubt."

"She was drawn into an union with his grace: there was no affection in the matter. She, a young creature, coming of very humble parents, flattered and courted by a man of high rank, became dazzled-blinded, and in wedding an old man, sacrificed her bright hopes-her truth-her happiness." All that night they watched by 'Rina's bed, and listened to her ravings, with which Paul's name was ever mingled. She never once spoke of her husband; she had for a while entirely forgotten him.

Some of the newspapers reported her to be in France; and united with her name almost every falsehood and faithless act that erring woman could commit. The duke read the papers, and believed what he read to be the truth. He, in the world's opinion, and also in his own, was the 'injured, not the injurer; his conduct towards his young wife had been most indulgent-most proper; he was blameless; she alone deserved censure and condemnation.

Beckenham conveyed Emma back to her home. Her violent grief had brought on a severe fit of coughing, which caused the rupture of a small blood-vessel. The doctor had insisted on her removal: quiet and repose were necessary, he said, nay, of the utmost importance to her. Any further excitement might be attended with fatal results.

Emma offered no resistance to the doctor's mandate. She felt how weak she was, and likewise the utter uselessness of her presence there.

To what a solitary and wretched home was she borne ! He who should have been her support and comfort in this hour of sore affliction, lay still in heavy, drunken insensibility.

They laid her on her bed, and then sent for a doctor. She made no complaint to those about her she did not suffer much pain, she said-there was no danger. Mr. Beckenham must not remain with her he must go back to her 'Rina, to whom she sent a mother's blessing.

He left her with great reluctance.

Emma knew that her last moment was now fast approaching; and a strange feeling-a feeling almost akin to joy, trembled in her bosom. To pass away from this world, in which she had tasted such bitter sorrow-to die!-oh, surely her aching heart longed for an eternal rest. Then, in imagination

her children rose up before her, entreating her to stay; and meekly and earnestly she prayed to live for them.

The doctor shook his head; and the women around understood his mute yet solemn gesture.

"He could do no good," he said: "there was no hope for her-she was dying!" and he was summoned away to attend another patient.

"All will be over soon-soon!" wailed poor Emma. "My 'Rina-my Clo'-my boys!" she cried aloud; "I shall not see you again. It is His will to take me heuce."

"Shall we arouse the master? It will not be right to let her die alone," whispered one servant to the other.'

Emma, overhearing what they said, raised herself in the bed, and in a steady, calm tone she thus spoke to them :— 'No, no; do not call your master, I desire-I implore! A dying woman requests that her last hours may not be disturbed. My good servants, you comprehend my meaning, do you not?"

They sobbed out their answer.

Thus alone for what are hired watchers by the bed of death? they count as nought to the dying one,-alone she lay, faintly breathing prayers to God for her children and her husband. Yes, she even prayed for him. 'Rina," she murmured softly, after a long pause, "I cannot stay to help thee ! He wills it otherwise."

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Another prolonged silence. The women looked on shudderingly. Was she dead? Suddenly she raised herself on her pillow, and appeared to listen intently. "Hush! Do you hear-I am called-I am waited for. 'Rina ! 'Rina!" She stretched out her arms, and turned her eyes upward. A soft, placid smile spread over her gentle face, and her lips. once more whispered the name of her firstborn.

There is now utter stillness in the chamber: all is over! Care, trouble, strife, sorrow- -all is over! No voice can wake her from this mortal slumber. All is over; and that which we see is but a poor handful of earth.

'Tis long past midnight, and the two women are sitting by the corpse, which they have laid out. The chamber door is flung open, and Julius staggers in. He has just awoke to soberness and raging thirst: he has come for the keys of the sideboard.

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Eh, what's the matter?" he stammered; glancing first at the women and then at the still figure on the bed.

"She would not let us call you," said one of the women. "What's the matter? he repeated hoarsely, taking up the lamp.

"Oh, sir! she's been dead a whole hour."

"Dead! Dead!" he repeated-" my wife dead? It's a lie- -a trick." And he tottered to the bed.

He touched her white cheek, and with a shiver recoiled from the body, and for some seconds remained utterly speechless.

"Give me the keys of the sideboard!" he said, in a desperate tone.

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'Oh, sir, my poor mistress!" cried one of the women. "Please sir, don't; indeed I haven't got the keys, and

"Search for them, I tell you. She carried them in her dress-pocket," Julius said, savagely.

The keys were found, and, with them in his hand, he hurried from the chamber of death-hurried from it with the speed of lightning; and, in a potent and accursed draught, he again steeped his senses in oblivion.

Drop the curtain! Shut out the scene!

CHAPTER XXXIV.

Summer is waning, and the

FOUR months have fled. leaves are beginning to fall.

We are again in Scarborough-we are again on its sandy beach, listening to the music of the murmuring waves, and watching the white skiffs in the far-off glistening waters. The sun is gilding each tiny ripple, and shedding a soft light upon a group of persons clad in sable habiliments.

A sick woman reclines in a Bath-chair, which the servant has wheeled close to the water's edge. An old gentleman, with anxious looks, stands by that chair.

"I think you are better to-day, 'Rina," said he, bending over the invalid. "Geoffrey," he added, turning round and addressing his nephew, "she is much better to-day."

The invalid smiled faintly, and her thoughts wandered back to the days when she and Joyful Jessy sauntered handin-hand along that beach, in search of shells and sea-side pebbles.

"Clo'," continued the old gentleman, "do come and look

at the colour in 'Rina's cheeks."

"In an instant, uncle," replied Clo', releasing her arm from her father's, and beckoning to a servant. "Let him walk about till he complains of being tired," she said, addressing the servant.

"Yes, madam.”

Julius nodded his head, and laughed idiotically as the man took charge of him.

"I am beginning to remember every spot," said 'Rina— "all the past is coming back to me clearly-oh, so clearly." "But are you better?" the sister asked.

"The sweet sea-breeze is refreshing," she languidly observed.

"And it does you good, darling, does it not?"

'Rina pressed the hand that lay on hers, and turned away her head.