for some time the muttering of Nan's voice was
indistinct. Then, suddenly starting up and addressing herself to some
imaginary person, she shouted aloud, "Stephie! Stephie! give me back the
watch, and tell me what you did with the rings?--They will ask--those
folks!--and what shall I tell them?" Then, after a pause, she said, in a
more feeble, but equally earnest voice, "No, no, Stephie, I never'll
tell--I _never, never_ will!" The moment the words had left her lips,
she started, turned, saw Gertrude standing by the bedside, and with a
frightful look, shrieked, rather than asked, "Did you hear? Did you
hear?--You did," continued she, "and you'll tell! Oh, if you _do_!" She
was here preparing to spring from the bed, but overcome with exhaustion,
sunk back on the pillow. Summoning Mr. and Mrs. Miller, the agitated
Gertrude, believing that her own presence was too exciting, left the
dying woman to their care, and sought another part of the house.
Learning, about an hour afterwards, from Mrs. Miller, that Nan had
become comparatively calm, but seemed near her end, Gertrude thought it
best not to enter the room again; and, sitting down by the kitchen fire,
pondered over the strange scene she had witnessed. Day was just dawning
when Mrs. Miller came to tell her that Nan had breathed her last.

Gerty's work of mercy, forgiveness, and Christian love being thus
finished, she hastened home to recruit her strength, and fortify herself
for the labour and suffering yet in store for her. In three weeks from
Nan Grant's death, Paul Cooper was smitten by the Destroyer's hand, and
he, too, was laid to his last rest; and though the deepest feelings of
Gertrude's heart were not in either case fully awakened, it was no
slight call upon the mental and physical endurance of a girl of eighteen
to bear up under the self-imposed duties caused by each event, and that,
too, at a time when her mind was racked by the apprehension of a new and
more intense grief. Emily's absence was also a sore trial to her, for
she was accustomed to rely upon her for advice and counsel, and in
seasons of peculiar distress, to learn patience and submission. Only one
letter had been received from the travellers, and that, written by Mrs.
Ellis, contained little that was satisfactory. It was written from
Havana, where they were boarding in a house kept by an American lady,
and crowded with visitors from Boston, New York, and other northern
cities.

"It an't so very p