in my sentiments, Dr. Sly!"

"With the destruction of his hopes, rather let me say; and Heaven grant
that the dear boy have strength to bear up against the misfortune which
comes so suddenly upon him!"

The next day Sister Anne came with a face full of care to Mrs.
Bluebeard. "O, that unhappy lover of yours!" said she.

"Is the captain unwell?" exclaimed the widow.

"No, it is the other," answered Sister Anne. "Poor, poor Mr. Sly! He
made a will leaving you all, except five pounds a year to his laundress:
he made his will, locked his door, took heart-rending leave of his uncle
at night, and this morning was found hanging at his bedpost when Sambo,
the black servant, took him up his water to shave. 'Let me be buried,'
he said, 'with the pincushion she gave me and the locket containing her
hair.' _Did_ you give him a pincushion, sister? _did_ you give him a
locket with your hair?"

"It was only silver-gilt!" sobbed the widow; "and now, O Heavens! I have
killed him!" The heart-rending nature of her sobs may be imagined; but
they were abruptly interrupted by her sister.

"Killed him?--no such thing! Sambo cut him down when he was as black in
the face as the honest negro himself. He came down to breakfast, and I
leave you to fancy what a touching meeting took place between the nephew
and the uncle."

"So much love!" thought the widow. "What a pity he squints so! If he
would but get his eyes put straight, I might perhaps--" She did not
finish the sentence: ladies often leave this sort of sentence in a sweet
confusion.

But hearing some news regarding Captain Blackbeard, whose illness and
blood-letting were described to her most pathetically, as well as
accurately, by the Scotch surgeon of the regiment, her feelings of
compassion towards the lawyer cooled somewhat; and when Dr. Sly called
to know if she would condescend to meet the unhappy youth, she said in
rather a _distrait_ manner, that she wished him every happiness; that
she had the highest regard and respect for him; that she besought him
not to think any more of committing the dreadful crime which would have
made her unhappy forever; _but_ that she thought, for the sake of both
parties, they had better not meet until Mr. Sly's feelings had grown
somewhat more calm.

"Poor fellow! poor fellow!" said the doctor, "may he be enabled to bear
his frightful calamity! I have taken away his razors from him, and
Sambo, my man, never lets him out of his sight."

The