your answer at the inn at Elmsley. My reason for
addressing this letter to you, Madam, was the fear of causing
Mrs. William Middleton too sudden an emotion in her present
state of health. To your hand I commit the task, and I pray
that you may be guided and blessed in the performance of it.

"William Lacy."

Alice had begun to read this letter as she was walking towards
the house; but as soon as she had read the few first lines,
and that the sense of them burst upon her, she staggered to a
bench, and a great faintness came over her. She read on,
however; and, as the letter ended with that prayer for her
which had been so fervently put up, she closed her eyes for an
instant, and said _Amen_ with her whole heart.

The letter had rolled at her feet, and as she stooped for it,
her husband suddenly joined her. He picked it up, and asked
whence it came. She trembled and turned pale. He saw it, and
guessed it all. He seized her hands, and looked wildly into
her face--

"Is she alive?"

"She is, Henry, she is."

He fell with his face to the ground, and for the first time in
his life his soul spoke to God.

When he arose he was very pale, but he took the letter from
Alice's hand, and read it through in silence. "Not dead, but
dying!" He hid his face in his hands and wept convulsively.

"Alice," he cried at last, as his wife bent over him in
speechless sympathy, "Alice, my guardian angel! never forsake
me--never leave me! Teach me to live; teach me to die; teach
me to see _her_ die, and not to blaspheme and to curse. Put
your hand on my forehead, and drive away the dreadful thoughts
that come over me... She is dying; she is alone: what are we
doing here? Alice, I must see this man, this priest; quick,
quick--send him to me; there is no time to lose."

There was a wildness in Henry's countenance and manner which
alarmed Alice. She walked fast with him to the house, and
despatched a groom to the inn with an earnest entreaty to Mr.
Lacy that he would come to them directly. She then went to
Mrs. Middleton, and, with tenderness and caution, informed her
of that glad, mournful news, which relieved her worst fears,
only by summoning her to the death-bed of that Ellen whom she
so passionately loved, and whose name vibrated in her ear, and
thrilled through her heart, with a strange and undying power.
She rose as from a deep sleep, and prepared to go to her; but
there was no gladness in the revival of her fainting spirit,