ot, it of right belongs to you."

Seeing that remonstrance would be useless, Leonard did not attempt it,
and while the assistant wheeled away the sick man, he returned with the
apothecary to his dwelling. Thanking him for his kindness, he then
hastened with Nizza Macascree to Great Knightrider-street. He related to
the doctor all that had occurred, and showed him the ring. Hodges
listened to the recital with great attention, and at its close said,
"This is a very singular affair, and excites my curiosity greatly. I
will go to the pest-house and see the sick man to-morrow. And now we
will proceed to supper; and then you had better retire to rest, for you
will have to be astir before daybreak. All is in readiness for the
journey."

The last night (for such she considered it) spent by Amabel in her
father's dwelling, was passed in the kindliest interchanges of
affection. Mr. Bloundel had much ado to maintain his firmness, and ever
and anon, in spite of his efforts, his labouring bosom and faltering
tones proclaimed the struggle within. He sat beside his daughter, with
her thin fingers clasped in his, and spoke to her on every consolatory
topic that suggested itself. This discourse, however, insensibly took a
serious turn, and the grocer became fully convinced that his daughter
was not merely reconciled to the early death that to all appearance
awaited her, but wishful for it. He found, too, to his inexpressible
grief, that the sense of the Earl of Rochester's treachery, combined
with her own indiscretion, and the consequences that might have attended
it, had sunk deep in her heart, and produced the present sad result.

Mrs. Bloundel, it will scarcely be supposed, could support herself so
well as her husband, but when any paroxysm of grief approached she
rushed out of the room, and gave vent to her affliction alone. All the
rest of the family were present, and were equally distressed. But what
most strongly affected Amabel was a simple, natural remark of little
Christiana, who, fixing her tearful gaze on her, entreated her "to come
back soon."

Weak as she was, Amabel took the child upon her knee, and said to her,
"I am going a long journey, Christiana, and, perhaps may never come
back. But if you attend to what your father says to you, if you never
omit, morning and evening, to implore the blessing of Heaven, we shall
meet again."

"I understand what you mean, sister," said Christiana. "The place you
are going to is