CHAPTER XXXIV.

Four months have fled. Summer is waning, and the 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.

"This is a lovely spot!-so tranquil, too, shaded by those overhanging cliffs."

"Oh, Sir John, I love the place!" exclaimed 'Rina, excitedly. "Under this cliff I learned my earliest lessonsseated on yonder rock I listened to nursery tales and rhymes. Oh, Mr. Jessy! my poor lost friend! Does my father recognize the place?"

"No," returned Clo', "he recollects nothing; his mind is in utter darkness."

"We will not talk of him," said Sir John, soothingly. "Ah, you are so kind, dear Sir John !" sighed the invalid, sinking back into her chair. "What would have become of

us all had it not been for you-my poor idiot father and my helpless self?"

"No more, 'Rina, no more! In memory of her who now sleeps for ever I devote myself to her child-nay, to all that was hers."

"I must talk to you while I am here," she said; "when I am gone there will remain nothing to prove my gratitude to you, save the remembrance of my thankful words."

"But, 'Rina," whispered Geoffrey, "we shall not lose you -you are better already: although we have not been in Scarborough twenty-four hours, I sec a perceptible change in you."

"Perhaps so, perhaps so," was the low, murmured reply. 'Rina had said truly: what, indeed, would have become of her had it not been for Sir John? What, likewise, would have become of her father, whose mind was now entirely shattered-lost!

After the night of Emma's death he drank incessantly, till his reason forsook him. Beckenham removed him to a private asylum, where he remained for some time, all the while gradually sinking into a state oi maudlin idiotcy.

At this crisis, while yet 'Rina's life hung trembling on a hair, Sir John, with his nephew and his bride, returned from Italy.

Beckenham saw their arrival mentioned in the newspaper, and immediately hastened to Park Lane, in order to be the first to break to Mrs. Hollingsworth the melancholy tidings of her mother's death.

The blow fell heavily on all; and though Sir John had fully expected the sad event, he nevertheless was greatly shocked and grieved, but he was still more shocked and grieved when he learned all the painful circumstances connected with her decease.

The old baronet's first visit was to Emma's grave; then he accompanied Beckenham to Mr. Trenmore's house, under whose roof 'Rina still remained. There was a terrible change in her; and the first glance of her face told a tale of severe suffering-of mental and bodily agony.

It was sad to look upon that wreck of loveliness; and painful to contemplate that she was dying of a broken heart. -Sir John was one of the few who believed in broken hearts.

"Poor faded flower!" he said, taking her wasted hand, and sitting by her side; "would she share his home? she was welcome to do so-truly welcome."

Clo' and Geoffrey came and added their entreaties also; and 'Rina yielded.

They carried her from one watering-place to another; yet daily she grew weaker. She had long been unable to walk, even across her own chamber. Sir John would have removed her to Italy, but the doctors forbade the attemptthe journey thither would kill her, they said.

Oh, how Clo' watched over her sister! With what tender, cherishing care she ministered to her every wish.

It was 'Rina's desire that her father should be removed from the asylum, and that he should be near her.

To Sir John's house Julius was accordingly brought. He was harmless as an infant now. Sometimes he would seem to recognize those about him ; and he would endeavour to recal their names; but the attempt proved of no availall power of memory was gone for ever gone.

'Rina expressed a wish to be taken to Scarborough; and thither the whole family at once proceeded.

Maybe the journey and the sight of an old familiar place might arouse Julius, thought Sir John. It was awful to see him thus. Better, far better to die, than to drag out an existence in hopeless idiotcy.

Autumn was now far advanced. The weather had grown chilly, and the clouded sky, reflected darkly in the stormy waters, rendered the sea-beach gloomy and sad. Neverthe

less, the chair (containing the invalid) followed by anxious hearts, still visited the beach.

One day the chair was, as usual, drawn close to the water's edge. "Clo," said 'Rina, "put a stool by me; I want to talk to our father."

"Not now, darling-not now," Clo' said, stooping over the invalid and kissing her. "Let us take you home; the seabreeze is quite cold."

"I like it. Listen, how the waters moan-----what a piteous sound-shall I ever again sit here?"

"I trust so, darling," replied Clo', in quivering tones.

This day 'Rina was much worse: the sister's watchful eye marked every change in that much-loved face.

"Please let me talk to my father," urged she.

Julius was led to her side. His hat, which was filled with pebbles and shells gathered on the beach, he carried between his hands.

"Father, I wish to speak to you: answer me-tell me that you know me."

"One two, three!" said Julius-counting the pebbles in his hat, oblivious of the past and unconscious of the present. " I am 'Rina," she continued, stretching out her hand and touching her father's.

"No, no! they're all mine!" cried he, excitedly snatching away his hand. "I won't give you one of my sovereigns." "I am 'Rina!" she repeated.

"'Rina, 'Rina-I-I. No, no! One, two, three. Ho, ho! I can't count. Go away! I want to count my sovereigns."

"Lost-quite lost," said Clo'.

"Poor mamma! I don't murmur that she's gone before me. The Almighty is ever wise and merciful. I wish I could walk; I long to sit on the top of yonder cliff; I want to watch the sunset-'tis a foolish longing."

"It shall be gratified, darling. Geoffrey shall carry you up."

With tender, loving care they wrapped her shawls around her, and bore her to the top of the cliff; then laid her on some loose cushions.

"On this rock I sat when a little child-a happy, little child-with Joyful Jessy by my side. How many years have passed by since then! How much has fallen from my grasp! Love, happiness, and health! Don't weep, Clo'darling-my own sister Clo'! When I am gone, don't let him know anything till I am buried. I am a discarded and disgraced wife, whose exit from the world's stage should not be noted."

Sir John and Geoffrey exchanged uneasy glances.

"I feel better! is it not strange? I have not felt so well since-since"

"Better, darling! do you, indeed, feel better?"

"There's a boat exactly like the one in which we sailed on that terrible day," and 'Rina covered her eyes, as if to shut out some fearful sight. "The recollection of that awful | event comes back upon me with painful distinctness."

"We will go home."

"Not yet, Clo'; the sunset is so beautiful. I may never see another."

Clo' caressed her sister, and burst into tears.

"Hark! the wind is rising. It has a mournful voice. I hear what it says-shall I tell you?"

Clotilda looked imploringly at her husband.

Geoffrey raised 'Rina in his arms, and bore her back to the chair.

"Quick, but gently!" he said, to the man drawing the chair.

Home was reached. All knew that the sufferer would soon be at rest. They were silent in their sorrow.

Geofirey carried her up to her chamber, and tenderly laid her on her couch; and then they all gathered round her. "Merciful God! she is dead!"-and Clo' fell back in her husband's arms.

Sir John spoke to 'Rina---touched her.
Dead-dead!

"Even so: my tale is told."