music
seem to be but the expression of one thought. My voice was
unnaturally loud and thrilling; there was a sound in it which
I could not bear. A moment afterwards I was desired to go to
my uncle in the library; Edward was with him, and Lawson, the
man of business. I was directed to sign some papers. I did so,
and Lawson left the room. My uncle then said to me--

"On you, Ellen, and on Edward, I have settled all my property.
Since the day that I lost my only child this has been my fixed
purpose. I was anxious to live long enough to see it
accomplished, and I am thankful that wish has been granted. I
have one request to make to you both. Call your eldest girl
_Julia_--make her wear this chain--it was round my child's
neck when she died--and if I live, let me see her often. Now
go, and God bless you both!"

I don't know what I said or did; these words fell like burning
lead on my soul, and I almost sank on the ground. Edward took
me out of the room; and the only hour of relief which that day
afforded was when, with his arm around me, and my head on his
shoulder, he suffered me to weep in silence.

...Then he raised my head gently but forcibly; then, with his
sweet smile, and his low deep voice, he whispered to me that
his happiness was unutterable--his love boundless--his soul
mine for ever. His words--words of passion from him whom I
worshipped--at whose side I felt myself unworthy to live--at
whose feet I would have been content to die;--those words,
those looks, those tones, thrilled through my whole frame, and
wrought on my brain, turning remorse for the past, and fear
for the future, into a delirious dream of joy, even as
laudanum can change pain itself into ecstacy.

I dreamed that night that I was in church, and that everything
was prepared for my marriage. We stood before the altar, and
the priest opened the book for the marriage service; but as he
began, it was the burial service that he read. They stopped
him, and he turned the pages; but ever as he began again to
read, the same words came to his lips, and the book in his
hands grew larger and larger, and the words, "For the Burial
of the Dead," stood out in bloody letters, and seemed to rise
from the page. I looked up into the priest's face, and that
was changing too. I had seen those features before; but I knew
them not till the thin lips moved, and said--"Julia's
murderer--Julia's murderer!" And then the book and the altar
were gone, and a coffin s