blic decency by forcing her from the sick bed to the altar.

After leaving her brother on the occasion of their last remarkable
interview, she retired to her room so full of wretchedness, indignation,
and despair of all human aid or sympathy, that she scarcely knew whether
their conversation was a dream or a reality. Above all things, the
shock she received through her whole moral system, delicately and finely
tempered as it was, so completely prostrated her physical strength, and
estranged all the virtuous instincts of her noble nature, that it was
with difficulty she reached her own room. When there, she immediately
rang for her maid, who at once perceived by the indignant sparkle of her
eye, the heightened color of her cheek, and the energetic agitation of
her voice, that something exceedingly unpleasant had occurred.

"My gracious, miss," she exclaimed, "what has happened? You look so
disturbed! Something, or somebody, has offended you."

"I am disturbed, Alice," she replied, "I am disturbed; come and lend
me your arm; my knees are trembling so that I cannot walk without
assistance; but must sit down for a moment. Indeed, I feel that my
strength is fast departing from me. I scarcely know what I am thinking.
I am all confused, agitated, shocked. Gracious heaven! Come, my dear
Alice, help your mistress; you, Alice, are the only friend I have left
now. Are you not my friend, Alice?"

She was sitting on a lounger as she spoke, and the poor affectionate
girl, who loved her as she did her life, threw herself over, and leaning
her head upon her mistress's knees wept bitterly.

"Sit beside me, Alice," said she; "whatever distance social distinctions
may have placed between us, I feel that the truth and sincerity of
those tears justify me in placing you near my heart. Sit beside me, but
compose yourself; and then you must assist me to bed."

"They are killing you," said Alley, still weeping. "What devil can tempt
them to act as they do? As for me, miss, it's breaking my heart, that I
see what you are suffering, and can't assist you."

"But I have your love and sympathy, your fidelity, too, my dear Alice;
and that now is all I believe the world has left me."

"No, miss," replied her maid, wiping her eyes, and striving to compose
herself, "no, indeed; there is another--another gentleman, I mean--as
well as myself, that feels deeply for your situation."

Had Lucy's spirit been such as they were wont to be, she could hav