maiden quickly. "Oh, say that you
would, dear Caleb! Let me hear it."

"You are agitated, dearest. We will not talk of this now. There is grace
in heaven appointed for the bitterest seasons of adversity. It does not
fail when needed. Let us pray that the hour may be distant which shall
bring home to either so great a test of resignation."

"Yes, pray, dear Stukely; but, should it come suddenly and quickly--oh,
let us be prepared to meet it!"

"We will endeavour, then; and now to a more cheerful theme. Do we go to
Dr Mayhew's, as proposed? We shall spend a happy day with our facetious,
but most kind-hearted friend."

Ellen burst again into a flood of tears.

"What is the matter, love?" I exclaimed. "Confide to me, and tell the
grief that preys upon your mind."

"Do not be alarmed, Stukely," she answered rapidly; "it may be nothing
after all; but when I woke this morning--it may, I hope for your sake
that it _is_ nothing serious--but my dear mother, it was the
commencement of her own last fatal illness."

She stopped suddenly, as if her speech had failed her--coughed sharply,
and raised her handkerchief to her mouth. I perceived a thick, broad
spot of BLOOD, and shuddered.

"Do not be frightened, Stukely," she continued, shocked fearfully
herself. "I shall recover soon. It is the suddenness--I was unprepared.
So it was when I awoke this morning--and it startled me, because I heard
it was the first bad symptom that my poor mother showed. Now, I pray
you, Stukely, to be calm. Perhaps I shall get well; but if I do not, I
shall be so happy--preparing for eternity, with you, dear Caleb, at my
side. You promised to be tranquil, and to bear up against this day; and
I am sure you will--yes, for my sake--that I may see you so, and have no
sorrow."

I took the dear one to my bosom, and, like a child, cried upon her neck.
What could I say? In one moment I was a bankrupt and a beggar--my
fortunes were scattered to the winds--my solid edifice as stricken by
the thunder-bolt, and lay in ruins before me! Was it real?

Ellen grew calmer as she looked at me, and spoke.

"Listen to me, dearest Stukely. It was my duty to acquaint you with this
circumstance, and I have done so, relying on your manliness and love.
You have already guessed what I am about to add. My poor father"--her
lips quivered as she said the word--"he must know nothing for the
present. It would be cruel unnecessarily to alarm him. His heart would
break. He