e is life, and death death, she will be
here soon."

In this he calculated aright, and he felt that he did so. Mrs.
Mainwaring, on the evening of their visit to the city, considered it her
duty to disclose, fully and candidly, to Lucy, the state of her father's
health, that is, as it appeared to her on their interview. Lucy, who
knew that he was subject to sudden attacks upon occasions of less
moment, not only became alarmed, but experienced a feeling like remorse
for having, as she said, abandoned him so undutifully.

"I will return immediately," she said, weeping; "he is ill: you say he
speaks of me tenderly and affectionately--oh, what have I done! Should
this illness prove serious--fatal--my piece of mind were gone forever. I
should consider myself as a parricide--as the direct cause of his death.
My God! perhaps even now I am miserable for life--forever--forever!"

Mrs. Mainwaring soothed her as well as she could, but she refused to
hear comfort, and having desired Alley Mahon to prepare their slight
luggage, she took an affectionate and tearful leave of Mrs. Mainwaring,
bade _adieu_ to her husband, and was about to get into the chaise, which
had been ordered from the inn in Wicklow, when Mrs. Mainwaring said:

"Now, my dear Lucy, if your father should recover, and have recourse
to any abuse of his authority, by attempting again to force your
inclinations and consummate your misery, remember that my door, my arms,
my heart, shall ever be open to you. I do not, you will observe, suggest
any act of disobedience on your part; on the contrary, I am of opinion
that you should suffer everything short of the last resort, by which
I mean this hateful marriage with Dunroe, sooner than abandon your
father's roof. This union is a subject on which I must see him again.
Poor Lord Cullamore I respect and venerate, for I have reason to
believe that he has, for one contemplated error, had an unhappy if not
a remorseful life. In the meantime, even in opposition to your
father's wishes, I say it, and in confirmation of your strongest
prejudices------"

"It amounts to antipathy, Mrs. Mainwaring--to hatred, to abhorrence."

"Well, my dear child, in confirmation of them all, I implore, I entreat,
I conjure, and if I had authority, I would say, I command you not to
unite your fate with that young profligate."

"Do not fear me, Mrs. Mainwaring; but at present I can think of nothing
but poor papa and his illness; I tremble, indeed,