"Your sister Mary could not avoid letting the secret out, when she came to take leave of her brother William, along with Miss Ellen and Lady Wyndham, which has been their custom, by his own desire, ever since his confinement. He regularly wishes to see his sisters, and his mother and father, before they retire for the night, (poor dear young man,) with a presentiment, no doubt, that it is the last time he will behold them in this mortal state of existence. Oh, Mr. Tanjore, you cannot imagine what a house of mourning this has been since your absence. Soon after you went away we had poor dear Miss Emma taken so sadly again, that she was obliged to go to Kenilworth for change of air; and when she began to recover, then your dear brother was suddenly attacked with this fatal illness, which was not thought so dangerous at first, as he grew better when Miss Emma was quite recovered, and went to Kenilworth frequently to see her; but on his last journey, Mr. Tanjore, he caught a severe cold it settled on his chest and lungs, and, alas! is hourly consuming him. We had hopes till the day before yesterday, when he fainted successively, and it was then that the fatal truth was obliged to be communicated to your father by the physicians. There were more than five called in by the advice of Dr. Starmer, and they ultimately agreed that he could not survive many days.

"Think how we were all afflicted by this intelligence, Mr. Tanjore ;-your poor father wept and sobbed like a child, and sent for Lord and Lady Wynd ham, who have never since quitted Berkeley Square; then your poor dear mother and Miss Emma remained all this while unconscious of the fatal truth, Mr.

Tanjore, which was doubly distressing to all parties. Your mother kept continually feeding herself with the hope that he was better, and so did Miss Emma; for when Mr. William awoke from a deep slumber, into which he had fallen after the fainting fits, his cheeks were flushed with the highest crimson, his fine eyes sparkled with brilliancy, and his spirits were animated to a degree beyond what any one could have imagined. It was then that Mrs. Trelawney ran into the drawing-room, where your father, Lord Wyndham and the physicians were sitting, and exclaimed,

"Dear Trelawney, our William is better,-congratulate me, dearest friends, my child will yet be spared to the prayers of his fond mother! He is awake, Dr. Starmer, no longer pale, but his complexion glows with the most rosy tints; he has been eating, too, he has greedily devoured part of a chicken, and drank a glass of wine, and he is in such spirits! Oh, I am sure he will recover, Dr. Starmer,-you must not tell me that my William is worse- -he is much better,-only come and look at him.'

"Now, Mr. Tanjore, there never was a more distressing moment for your poor father, for he had only a few hours received the confirmed opinion of your brother's case from the physicians; yet they immediately complied with the wishes of a fond mother— they accompanied her to the chamber of their patient, at whose altered appearance they neither expressed hope nor fear, but leaving her with her son, returned again to your impatient father, who exclaimed, with much anxiety,

"How is my boy?'

F. P.

30

"To which Dr. Starmer mournfully answered,"My dear Trelawney, endeavour to be composed, and I will then talk to you on a subject which it will be a very painful matter to break to Mrs. Trelawney. Let us for a few moments spare the anguish of a woman's and a mother's feelings;-you know not how distressing it is for me to reveal the truth on this melancholy occasion, but were I, from a false delicacy, to suffer you any longer to cherish hopes of your son, I should be acting unworthy of a friend or physician. To be plain, my dear Trelawney, the situation of your son now portends that a fatal crisis is progressively approaching, to avert which all human effort will be vain. The hectic flush on his cheek is no more than an access of the fever which is consuming him, and when it subsides, his spirits will sink as low as they now appear to be exhilarated; nay, perhaps they may be attended with more unfavorable symptoms of the disorder. The present appearances are, I grieve to tell you, by no means a favorable symptom of this fatal disease; I would much rather have found him low and languid; however, we will take every precaution to keep him as quiet and as composed as possible, to prevent a return of the access of fever, which he would have but little strength to support, nor will I permit any further conversation to be directed towards him, he has already talked too much.'

"They were then joined by your dear mother, who, it seems, still flattered herself with the most sanguine hopes of your brother's recovery, and actually talked of it as a circumstance beyond doubt to Mr. Trelawney, often repeating,- Now is not William much better, my dear Trelawney?'

"Well, Mr. Tanjore, you may very naturally suppose how exceedingly painful this conversation continued to be to your poor father; and on the following day, as appearances were not worse with your brother, Mrs. Trelawney still imagined that they were much better, and I shall never forget the moment when it was thought necessary that she should no longer be kept in ignorance of his danger

"I was standing near the bed, Mr. Tanjore, and Miss Emma had just been giving your brother his medicine (for he has taken nothing but from her hand for a considerable time past,) and we thought that he had fallen asleep, every thing was so silent, and he seemed so quiet, when Miss Emma, approaching the bed and gently drawing the curtains aside, gave a faint scream and exclaimed,

"Oh, Mrs. Pelham, William is dead,-I am sure he does not breathe-run, fly for Dr. Starmer, and my uncle and aunt.'

"Dr. Starmer immediately examined him, and pronounced that he had only fainted; and while the usual remedies were applied, I ran to console your poor distracted mother; but, oh, Mr. Tanjore, it was not easy to pacify her, or convince her that your brother was yet alive. She fainted in the arms of Mr. Trelawney, and was that evening conveyed to the chamber almost insensible, in which she has remained ever since the fatal intelligence of your brother's danger has been communicated to her. All her inquiry is, when any one approaches her, 'Is my child dead?'and when we answer her, she bursts into an agony of

tears.

"Oh, Mr. Taniore. it is heart-breaking to see her

in this lamentable situation, though Dr. Starmer thinks she is much better and more composed to night, and I pray Heaven that she may continue so, dear soul; she has yet much to encounter, for your poor brother cannot long survive, Mr. Tanjore; he grows weaker every hour now that the fever has left him. He has had no fever since yesterday morning, but does not appear quite so collected; his eyes, when they are open, are fixed only on the face of Miss Bradbury, and when he closes them, his lips softly murmur out her name."

The feelings of Tanjore were now wholly overcome at the affecting recital given him by Mrs. Pelham, but at this part of it he could no longer stifle his agonizing sensations, and he burst into a torrent of tears.

"Poor William !" uttered he, "poor William, would-would I could restore thee, my dear suffering brother, to thy Emma, whom thy faithful love has deserved. Would it were indeed in my power to give thee life, happiness, health,—or that I only were the sacrifice!"

"Hush! cease, for Heaven's sake, my dear Mr. Tanjore, do not talk so wildly," cried Mrs. Pelham; "it is not in mortals to give life or health, and it is much if they can give happiness; nor must you talk of sacrifices,-sacrifices to heaven! there can be none, since every moment of our lives employed in the service of our Heavenly Father is but then a faint image of our duty towards him, and the great debt of gratitude that we owe for the manifold blessings which his indulgent kindness showers upon us. It is not your life which can preserve your brother, nor can mortal hand arrest the blow ;-however, it is very