nds of lamentation and weeping, and
the suppressed hum of voices as if of those endeavouring to soothe the
mourner. The door was speedily opened, and when the ladies entered, the
first object which met their view was their sister, Lady Ardagh, sitting
on a form in the hall, weeping and wringing her hands in deep agony.
Beside her stood two old, withered crones, who were each endeavouring in
their own way to administer consolation, without even knowing or caring
what the subject of her grief might be.

Immediately on Lady Ardagh's seeing her sisters, she started up, fell on
their necks, and kissed them again and again without speaking, and then
taking them each by a hand, still weeping bitterly, she led them into
a small room adjoining the hall, in which burned a light, and, having
closed the door, she sat down between them. After thanking them for the
haste they had made, she proceeded to tell them, in words incoherent
from agitation, that Sir Robert had in private, and in the most solemn
manner, told her that he should die upon that night, and that he
had occupied himself during the evening in giving minute directions
respecting the arrangements of his funeral. Lady D---- here suggested
the possibility of his labouring under the hallucinations of a fever;
but to this Lady Ardagh quickly replied:

'Oh! no, no! Would to God I could think it. Oh! no, no! Wait till you
have seen him. There is a frightful calmness about all he says and
does; and his directions are all so clear, and his mind so perfectly
collected, it is impossible, quite impossible.' And she wept yet more
bitterly.

At that moment Sir Robert's voice was heard in issuing some directions,
as he came downstairs; and Lady Ardagh exclaimed, hurriedly:

'Go now and see him yourself. He is in the hall.'

Lady D---- accordingly went out into the hall, where Sir Robert met her;
and, saluting her with kind politeness, he said, after a pause:

'You are come upon a melancholy mission--the house is in great
confusion, and some of its inmates in considerable grief.' He took her
hand, and looking fixedly in her face, continued: 'I shall not live to
see to-morrow's sun shine.'

'You are ill, sir, I have no doubt,' replied she; 'but I am very
certain we shall see you much better to-morrow, and still better the day
following.'

'I am NOT ill, sister,' replied he. 'Feel my temples, they are cool; lay
your finger to my pulse, its throb is slow and temperate. I never w