which was placed near the window of his chamber; "so, to please you, this shall be my resting-place till you return to me again." “Which shall be as soon as I can get some coffee prepared," answered Fothersgill, and immediately departed, the great clock in the hall responding the hour of six at the moment he quitted the chamber of Tanjore, by which time all the domestics had arisen, and were pursuing their several occupations in as orderly and as quiet a manner as possible. Already was the breakfast in preparation to be carried into the Doctor's apartment at the usual hour, (seven o'clock,) so that Fothersgill had no difficulty in procuring the coffee, informing the housekeeper at the same instant that it was Mr. Tanjore Trelawney for whom he wanted it so immediately, as he had been sitting up in his chamber the whole of the night; at which Mrs. Evans expressed the greatest surprise, there not having been any immediate necessity for his so doing, while she exclaimed, "But that is exactly like Mr. Tanjore, Sir,-I do not think there is such another kind-hearted young gentleman in existence; when he thinks that any body is in pain, or looks unhappy, how anxiously does he inquire into the cause, and to know if he can do any thing to serve them." "Mr. Tanjore has indeed a most excellent heart, Mrs. Evans," cried Fothersgill, always delighted to join in the praises of his young favorite. "That he has, Sir," returned the housekeeper, pouring the coffee into a silver pot, while she placed it on a tray with some biscuits; "I shall never forget, when the coachman lost his wife and child last summer, : with the scarlet fever, how kindly Mr. Tanjore went up to him in the hall, and spoke to him, at the same moment that he slipped some money into his hands : 'John,' cried he, I am very sorry to hear that you are labouring under some severe family distress, but we are all liable to the same misfortunes, and you must endeavour to bear them with fortitude;' and he added, seeing the tears start into poor John's eyes, 'Come, don't grieve, you are an old and faithful servant of my father's, John, and while you continue to merit his good opinion, he will always take care of you.' The sum that Mr. Tanjore then gave John was five guineas, Sir,—there was liberality for you." The tutor acknowledged that it was a noble act of generosity and kindness of disposition, for which, from the days of his infancy, he had ever been remarkable. The coffee was now taken in by Fothersgill himself, who would not allow of the attendance of a servant into the chamber of Tanjore, whom he found stretched on the sofa where he had left him; but his eyes, though heavy, were by no means inclinable to sleep. "My dear Fothersgill, what trouble you have been giving yourself on my account," cried Tanjore, penetrated by the kind attentions of his old affectionate tutor beyond the power of expression. "Indeed, Mr. Tanjore, I have had but little trouble in the business," answered he; "the coffee was all ready made for the Doctor, who takes his breakfast early, and Mrs. Evans had only to put it into the pot. Edward would indeed have brought it up to your chamber, but I chose to be his substitute, unwilling that he should disturb you if you should have fallen asleep.' "You are excessively kind,” cried Tanjore, immediately rising and helping himself to some coffee, from which, in a few minutes, he felt considerable relief. Still Tanjore, was extremely anxious to hear of the state of his brother, what sort of a night he had passed, whether he had slept soundly, and if he might obtain permission of his father to enter the adjoining apartment to sit with him and Lord Wyndham. "I should think," cried the tutor, very gravely, "that such a request could not reasonably be denied; however, finish your coffee, and compose yourself, my dear Mr. Tanjore, and I will presently go and see. I dare say that your father is now stirring; he generally lays down in the course of the night, on a bed prepared for him." But Tanjore's anxiety became every moment stronger, and in a few minutes Fothersgill complied with his request, returning almost instantly, with a countenance and manner extremely agitated. "How is my brother?" demanded Tanjore; "will my father yet permit me to behold him ?" "Alas, Mr. Tanjore," cried Fothersgill, bursting into tears, "it is greatly feared that in a few minutes all will be over. He has fainted twice from excess of weakness since he awoke, and if he relapses, Dr. Starmer does not expect that he will be able to speak again; yet every one is under the necessity of stifling their emotions; not a word is spoken by any one, and scarce a sigh breathed that may reach his ear. Your father is almost speechless with grief, but he desires that you will attend him immediately. Now, my dear Mr. Tanjore, endeavour to bear up amidst this distressing scene, and command your feelings as can." well as you Tanjore uttered not a word, but suffered Fothersgill to take him by the arm and lead him into the presence of his father. Every soul was kneeling, save Emma and Dr. Starmer, who were stationed in the chamber of the dying Wiiliam, as dying they now imagined that he was. Nothing more could be administered,— nothing more could be done, and an awful and prophetic silence prevailed. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was more gentle than usual. At length he faintly murmured, "Emma!" and she drew near,-" Emma," cried the expiring sufferer, "I am better; I am going to the land of spirits very quickly, but still I feel better than I did some hours ago;-call my father-my mother is ill, I know she cannot come; but where are my sisters, and my brother Tanjore? I must speak to Tanjore,-where is he?-hold him up to me that he may hear me.' “I am here, my brother," cried Tanjore, in a voice convulsed with emotion. "Emma, you must come too," cried William, in a now firmer voice, and making an effort to raise his head, in which he was immediately assisted by the almost fainting girl; "there, that will do," uttered he; "Emma, my dearest, your hand,-it cannot now be William's, but it shall be Tanjore's. Take her, Tanjore,—she is the gift of a dying brother, to whom she was the only tie that bound him to existence, There,-there,-now I am happy. See, father, the angels that I dreamt of last night are beckoning me to tome to them, and I am going! Tell my mother not to weep for William, and that I blessed her with my last breath-no,-no,-not my last" and he fixed his eyes on Emma, from whence they were never more removed till the hand of death gradually advanced, and gently sealed them up for ever CHAPTER XXIII. "The loves of relatives in time wax weak, 66 Vary with circumstance, or change to hate: "But, oh! the bosom-friend, who choice did make "For well I wot, 'twere worse than idle prate "To say that marriage is a bliss to all,— "The foolish and the bad that sweet cup drug with gall.” EMMA,―the poor, suffering, tender-hearted, patient and exhausted Emma, not only exhausted by the sufferings of the dear departed one, in whose chamber she had faithfully and unremittingly watched for long, tedious and successive weeks, and whom she had never quitted for a moment during all the painful stages of |