m, for there was a pause.

"Her heart broke in it--yearning after you and your father."

"What makes you think it?"

"Child, I _know_ it!"

William considered. Then, had he been strong enough, he would have
started up with energy. "Madame Vine, you could only know that by
mamma's telling you! Did you ever see her? Did you know her abroad?"

Lady Isabel's thoughts were far away--up in the clouds perhaps. She
reflected not on the possible consequences of her answer, or she had
never given it.

"Yes, I knew her abroad."

"Oh!" said the boy. "Why did you never tell us? What did she say? What
was she like?"

"She said"--sobbing wildly--"that she was parted from her children here;
but she should meet them in Heaven, and be with them forever. William,
darling! all the awful pain, and sadness, and guilt of this world will
be washed out, and God will wipe your tears away."

"What was her face like?" he questioned softly.

"Like yours. Very much like Lucy's."

"Was she pretty?"

A momentary pause. "Yes."

"Oh, dear, I am ill. Hold me!" cried out William, as his head sank to
one side, and great drops, as large as peas, broke forth upon his
clammy face. It appeared to be one of the temporary faint attacks that
overpowered him at times lately, and Lady Isabel rang the bell hastily.

Wilson came in, in answer. Joyce was the usual attendant upon the sick
room; but Mrs. Carlyle, with her infant, was passing the day at the
Grove; unconscious of the critical state of William, and she had taken
Joyce with her. It was the day following the trial. Mr. Justice Hare had
been brought to West Lynne in his second attack, and Barbara had gone
to see him, to console her mother, and to welcome Richard to his home
again. If one carriage drove, that day, to the Grove, with cards and
inquiries, fifty did, not to speak of the foot callers. "It is all meant
by way of attention to you, Richard," said gentle Mrs. Hare, smiling
through her loving tears at her restored son. Lucy and Archie were
dining at Miss Carlyle's, and Sarah attended little Arthur, leaving
Wilson free. She came in, in answer to Madame Vine's ring.

"Is he off in another faint?" unceremoniously cried she, hastening to
the bed.

"I think so. Help to raise him."

William did not faint. No; the attack was quite different from those
he was subject to. Instead of losing consciousness and power, as was
customary, he shook as if he had the ague, and laid hold both of Mada