nds laugh, as I have heard they can, what a jubilee of scorn will
there be, when Bulmer and I enter their place of torture!--Hark!--I am
sure of it--some one draws breath, as if shuddering!"

"You will distract yourself if you give way to these fancies. Be
calm--speak on--but, oh! at last, and for once, speak the truth!"

"I will, for it will best gratify my hatred against him, who, having
first robbed me of my virtue, made me a sport and a plunder to the
basest of the species. For that I wandered here to unmask him. I had
heard he again stirred his suit to Clara, and I came here to tell young
Mowbray the whole.--But do you wonder that I shrunk from doing so till
this last decisive moment?--I thought of my conduct to Clara, and how
could I face her brother?--And yet I hated her not after I learned her
utter wretchedness--her deep misery, verging even upon madness--I hated
her not then. I was sorry that she was not to fall to the lot of a
better man than Bulmer;--and I pitied her after she was rescued by
Tyrrel, and you may remember it was I who prevailed on you to conceal
her marriage."

"I remember it," answered Cargill, "and that you alleged, as a reason
for secrecy, danger from her family. I did conceal it, until reports
that she was again to be married reached my ears."

"Well, then," said the sick woman, "Clara Mowbray ought to forgive
me--since what ill I have done her was inevitable, while the good I did
was voluntary.--I must see her, Josiah Cargill--I must see her before I
die--I shall never pray till I see her--I shall never profit by word of
godliness till I see her! If I cannot obtain the pardon of a worm like
myself, how can I hope for that of"----

She started at these words with a faint scream; for slowly, and with a
feeble hand, the curtains of the bed opposite to the side at which
Cargill sat, were opened, and the figure of Clara Mowbray, her clothes
and long hair drenched and dripping with rain, stood in the opening by
the bedside. The dying woman sat upright, her eyes starting from their
sockets, her lips quivering, her face pale, her emaciated hands grasping
the bed-clothes, as if to support herself, and looking as much aghast as
if her confession had called up the apparition of her betrayed friend.

"Hannah Irwin," said Clara, with her usual sweetness of tone, "my early
friend--my unprovoked enemy!--Betake thee to Him who hath pardon for us
all, and betake thee with confidence--for I pardon you