lear and colorless as water. It was prussic acid. Lucy was
immediately removed, and committed to the care of Alley Mahon and some
of the other females, and the body of the baronet was raised and placed
upon his own bed. The Dean and Lord Dunroe looked upon his lifeless but
stern features with a feeling of awe.

"Alas!" exclaimed the good Dean, "and is it thus he has gone to his
great account? We shall not follow his spirit into another life; but it
is miserable to reflect that one hour's patience might have saved him to
the world and to God, and showed him, after all, that the great object
of his life had been accomplished. Blind and impatient reasoner!--what
has he done?"

"Yes," replied Dunroe, looking on him with a feeling of profound
melancholy; "there he lies--quiet enough now--the tumults of his strong
spirit are over forever. That terrible heart is still at last--that
fiery pulse will beat no more!"

We have now very little to state which our readers may not anticipate.
Lucy and Lady Emily, each made happy in the great object of woman's
heart--love, only exchanged residences.

Lucy's life was a long and bountiful blessing to her fellow-creatures.
Her feelings were never contracted within the narrow circle of her own
class, but embraced the great one of general humanity. She acted upon
the noble principle of receiving from God the ample gifts of wealth and
position, not for the purpose of wasting them in expensive and
selfish enjoyments, but for that of causing them to diffuse among her
fellow-creatures the greatest possible portion of happiness. This she
considered her high destination, and well and nobly she fulfilled it
in this, the great and true purpose of life, her husband and she went
heart-in-heart, hand-in-hand; nor were Sir Edward Gourlay, and his kind
and gentle Emily, far behind them in all their good-will and good works.

Lord Dunroe, having no strength of character to check his profligate
impulses, was, in the course of some years, thrown off by all his high
connections, and reduced to great indigence. Norton's notion of his
character was correct. The society of that treacherous sharper was
necessary to him, and in some time after they were reconciled. Norton
ultimately became driver of a celebrated mail-coach on the great York
road, and the other, its guard; thus resolving, as it would seem, to
keep the whip-hand of the weak and foolish nobleman in every position
of life. Several of our English