dral, which his distempered fancy had
converted into the colossal figure of the enthusiast.

Blaize, who had taken the opportunity of his companion's abstraction to
sip a little more plague-water, now approached, and told him that
Wingfield was descending the hill to meet them. Rousing himself, Leonard
ran towards the farmer, who appeared delighted to see them back again,
and conducted them to his dwelling. Owing to the tender and truly
maternal attention of Dame Wingfield, Amabel was so much better that she
was able to join the party at supper, though she took no share in the
meal. Wingfield listened to the soft tones of her voice as she conversed
with his wife, and at last, unable to control his emotion, laid down his
knife and fork, and quitted the table.

"What is the matter with your husband?" inquired Amabel of her hostess.
"I hope he is not unwell."

"Oh! no," replied the good dame; "your voice reminds him of our
daughter, whose history I have related to you--that is all."

"Alas!" exclaimed Amabel, with a sympathizing look, "I will be silent,
if it pains him to hear me speak."

"On no account," rejoined Dame Wingfield. "The tears he has shed will
relieve him. He could not weep when poor Sarah died, and I feared his
heart would break. Talk to him as you have talked to me, and you will do
him a world of good."

Shortly afterwards, the farmer returned to the table, and the meal
proceeded to its close without further interruption. As soon as the
board was cleared, Wingfield took a chair by Amabel, who, in compliance
with his wife's request, spoke to him about his daughter, and in terms
calculated to afford him consolation. Leonard was enraptured by her
discourse, and put so little constraint upon his admiration, that Nizza
Macascree could not repress a pang of jealousy. As to Blaize, who had
eaten as much as he could cram, and emptied a large jug of the farmer's
stout ale, he took his chair to a corner, and speedily fell asleep; his
hoarse but tranquil breathing proving that the alarms he had undergone
during the day did not haunt his slumbers. Before separating for the
night, Amabel entreated that prayers might be said, and her request
being readily granted, she was about to retire with Nizza, when
Wingfield detained them.

"I have been thinking that I might offer you a safe asylum here," he
said. "If you like it, you shall remain with us till your health is
fully reinstated."

"I thank you most kindly fo