n Clara of the information she had received was very
serious. Deeply as she had been afflicted, the consciousness of having
done right in refusing to marry a man who was destitute, as she had
accidentally discovered, of virtuous principles, sustained her. But now
it was revealed to her that he was as excellent as she had at first
believed him, and that she had been made the victim of a pleasant joke!
There was no longer any thing to hold her up, and accordingly her
spirits completely forsook her, and in less than two weeks she was
seriously ill.

The news of this deeply disturbed Mr. Mears, who had written to Fisher,
and was waiting impatiently for an answer.

"I am afraid we have made the matter worse," he said to his wife, who,
on returning from a visit to Clara, reported that, so far from
improving, she was too evidently sinking, daily. "If Fisher should have
entered into another engagement, or, if his pride has taken fire at
being thrown off on what may appear to him such slight grounds, I
really tremble for the consequences."

"Let us hope for the best," returned Mrs. Mears, "as we have acted for
the best. It was plainly our duty to do as we have done. On that
subject I have no doubt."

Two more weeks of painful suspense and anxiety passed. Clara did not
improve in the least. Mrs. Mears called to see her every few days, but
dared not venture to tell her that her husband had written to Fisher.
She was afraid to fill her mind with this hope, lest it should fail,
and the shock prove too severe. But, even as it was, life seemed to be
rapidly ebbing away.

At length there came a change. Nature rallied, and life, flowed, though
feebly still, in healthier currents through the veins of Clara Grant.
In a week from the time this change took place, she was able to leave
her bed and set up for a few hours each day. But all who looked into
her young face were grieved at the sight. There were no deep lines of
distress there, but the marks of patient, yet hopeless suffering.

One day, she sat alone, in a dreamy, musing state, with a book lying
upon her lap. She had been trying to read, but found it impossible to
take any interest in the pages over which her eyes passed, while her
mind scarcely apprehended the sense. Some one opened the door; but she
did not look around. The person, whoever it was, remained only for a
moment or two, and then withdrew. In a little while the door opened
again, and some one entered and came to