able, the whole man crushed, bowed down, overwhelmed with remorse.

'We are ready. Come, Philip.'

'I cannot; I am not worthy,' he answered, not looking up.

'Nay, you are surely in no uncharitableness with him now,' said she,
gently.

A shudder expressed his no.

'And if you are sorry--that is repentance--more fit now than ever--Won't
you come? Would you grieve him now?'

'You take it on yourself, then,' said Philip, almost sharply, raising
his haggard face.

She did not shrink, and answered, 'A broken and contrite heart, O God,
Thou wilt not despise.'

It was a drop of balm, a softening drop. He rose, and trembling from
head to foot, from the excess of his agitation, followed her into Guy's
room.

The rite was over, and stillness succeeded the low tones, while all
knelt in their places. Amabel arose first, for Guy, though serene,
looked greatly exhausted, and as she sprinkled him with vinegar, the
others stood up. Guy looked for Philip, and held out his hand. Whether
it was his gentle force, or of Philip's own accord Amabel could not
tell; but as he lay with that look of perfect peace and love, Philip
bent down over him and kissed his forehead.

'Thank you!' he faintly whispered. 'Good night. God bless you and my
sister.'

Philip went, and he added to Amy, 'Poor fellow! It will be worse for him
than for you. You must take care of him.'

She hardly heard the last words, for his head sunk on one side in a
deathlike faintness, the room was cleared of all but herself, and Anne
fetched the physician at once.

At length it passed off, and Guy slept. The doctor felt his pulse, and
she asked his opinion of it. Very low and unequal, she was told: his
strength was failing, and there seemed to be no power of rallying it,
but they must do their best to support him with cordials, according
to the state of his pulse. The physician could not remain all night
himself, but would come as soon as he could on the following day.

Amabel hardly knew when it was that he went away; the two Mr. Morrises
went to the other hotel; and she made her evening visit to Philip. It
was all like a dream, which she could afterwards scarcely remember, till
night had come on, and for the first time she found herself allowed to
keep watch over her husband.

He had slept quietly for some time, when she roused him to give him some
wine, as she was desired to do constantly. He smiled, and said, 'Is no
one here but you?'

'No one.'

'My