back the hand upon the dial, and years, whole years of
happiness, shall be yours and mine."

"Inscrutable Ruler of heaven!" I exclaimed, "it is impossible! You are
but trying my affection--you do but wish to witness the depth of my
agony--you would prove me--but this is with a torture too cruel. Say--
oh, say--my dear Mrs Causand, that you are trifling with me--you--you
are now the only friend that I have upon earth!"

"These emotions, my dear boy, will slay me outright--the monster is now,
even now, grappling with me--give me your hand." She took it, and
placed it over the region of her heart. The shock it gave me was
electric--that heart trembled beneath her bosom rapidly as flutter the
wings of the dying bird--then paused--then went on. I looked into her
face, and saw again the instant and momentary pallor, that had surprised
me so much on my first entrance. The paroxysm was as short as it was
violent, and her features again returned to their usual placidity of
majestic beauty.

"You know it all now, Ralph--the least motion sets my heart in this
unaccountable fury--and--alas, alas! every attack is more acute than the
last. They tell me that I am dying--I cannot believe it. I cannot even
comprehend it. I have none of the symptoms of death upon me.
Everything around me breathes of health and happiness--you alone were
wanting to complete the scene--you are here--no--no, I will not die.
Had my hair whitened, my form bowed, my complexion withered--why, then--
I might have been reconciled--but, no--it is impossible--no--no--Ralph,
I am _not_ dying."

"Fervently do I pray God that you are not. It also seems to me
impossible--but still, the youngest of us cannot always escape--hoping,
trusting, relying on the best, we should be prepared for the worst."

"But I am not prepared," she exclaimed, with a fierce energy that
breathed defiance; and then, relapsing into a profound melancholy, she
mournfully continued--"and I cannot prepare myself."

"Have you spoken to a clergyman?" said I, not knowing exactly what else
to say. "Is not this some book of divine consolation?"

I took it up; it was the popular novel of the day, entitled, "The Rising
Sun." What a profound mockery for a deathbed!

"I tell you, my dear Ralph, that you must not agitate me. Talk of
anything but my approaching death--for know, that I am resolved _not_ to
die. To-morrow there will be a consultation over my case of the very
first of the