mishap-"Sweet, grateful girl!" said she, “what has she ever seen in me, to dread my presence? Can she think me so unjust, to blame her for what she feels as sensibly as myself, and of which she is equally innocent? She must not remain in such an error-I will go and convince her she injures me by such a surmise; and that her happiness is as dear to me as my son's, who, I hope, will live to repay us both for the uneasiness this rash step of his has occasioned."

She went directly to Louisa's chamber, whom she found in a situation that really alarmed her. Her eyes were swollen with weeping: but tears had now subsided; and silent sorrow, that refused consolation, had taken their place; and every lenient gentle word Lady Melville used, could obtain no other answer, than unconnected thanks, and repetitions of her own unworthiness. The Countess intreated her to go to bed, as she had hopes rest would compose her spirits, and restore their wonted tranquillity. But those hopes were fruitless; for, after passing a sleepless night, during which she alternately laughed and weeped, the physician, in the morning, pronounced her in a high fever. To hide her illness from Lord Melville was impossible; to tell the real reason was equally so; and a cold was made the excuse for her not appearing in his chamber as usual,

CHAPTER XIX.

AN UNEXPECTED EVENT.

Friendship! mysterious cement of the soul,
Sweet'ner of life, and solder of society;

I owe thee much. Thou hast deserv'd from me
Far, far beyond what I can ever pay.

BLAIR'S GRAVE.

LOUISA's fever did not give way to the common remedies, but increased to such a height as set medicine at defiance. In this state, her wounded imagination made her again endure every misfortune she had before suffered-Again she thought herself in Danvers's power, and implored the help of Mr. Belmont-again she stabbed Lord Danford, and wept the misguided hand that spared her own bosom. At other times, more composed, she would sing in a voice so piercing, as would have found its way to the most obdurate heart.

Every thing in so unpromising a situation, Lady Melville could scarcely conceal her concern; for it seemed impossible for Louisa to recover; and if so, she had every reason to dread the loss of her son. As to Julia, her passions were not tempered like Lady Melville's; and the laughing

graces, which used to dwell in her eyes, were washed away by the tears which perpetually wet her cheeks.

Fresh excuses were every day invented to hide the real state of Louisa from Lord Melville; who, as he could not leave his bed, was forced to appear to believe what he was told; though the melancholy of Lady Melville, and the swollen eyes of Julia, filled him with most cruel apprehensions that he was deceived.

Mr. Belmont, though he ceased to hope any information he might gain from Lord Danford would be of use to Louisa, could not determine to leave so deserving a family in such a scene of distress he therefore waited the event, with a tender feeling for their troubles, but with a resignation christian fortitude only can inspire. He saw Louisa every day he knelt by her side-he intreated the power in whom he trusted, to spare her: for much did he esteem her. Her youth and gentleness-but, above all, her misfortunes-had won upon his native philanthropy, and forced. him to hold a converse with the world he had long declined.

One day, when Lady Melville and Julia were both in Louisa's chamber, watching the event of a long sleep they almost feared would be her last, she awoke with more composure than from the beginning of her illness, and, casting her eyes

round, perfectly knew them. "My dear, best friends, how much do I trouble you!" said she"Give me each a hand-Pardon, Lady Melville, what I am the occasion of; and inform me if Lord Melville lives." "" He does," returned she, transported to hear her speak sensibly-" he lives to reward you for your sufferings, and to bless me by your mutual happiness."-" No, my dear Madam, that is past," replied she: "I once was vain enough to hope some such thing, and that the malice of my fate was spent; but the delusion's over—I am hastening to a land where I can only know peace. That Lord Melville is better, I look to heaven with thanks his death would have been too severe a blow :-spared from that, I can bear the rest."" Yet more," said Julia; "Danvers will recover: so, my dear girl, do not give way to such gloomy ideas your health restored is all we want to make us happy." "Heaven's will be done!" returned Louisa ;

:

but, as I know my senses are very unsettled, one thing I would intreat, now I have an interval of reason is, that you would write to my friend on the moor-say to her, that I had not a wish unsatisfied, but to see her, and receive her blessing, and bid her adieu till we meet again in a better world. But I feel myself faint, and must hasten to inform you how your letter may find her." She then told them the usual direction to

Mrs. Bennet; and, being much exhausted, again attempted to compose herself: which interval Lady Melville employed in writing the desired letter, which she dispatched express.

Louisa had no return of her delirium; which gave them great hopes: but so much had her former ravings exhausted her, that it was almost impossible to hear her speak.

Gold gave the courier speed, and he reached the post-house at Kendal the third day after his departure from London. He was soon directed to the old man's cottage; to the humble master of which he delivered the letter.

for

The old man desired the stranger to seat himself, and he would soon return with an answer; which purpose he hurried to his benevolent mistress.- A letter for me-and by such a conveyance!" said she "what can it be?" and, before she perused it, cast her eye on the signature. "From Lady Melville!-Good Heaven preserve my Louisa!" She then ran over the contents with a concern true tenderness only can feel. "Well, Mary," said she,." our Louisa is, by this, perhaps, an angel.-But, on the supposition she still lives, she has expressed a wish to see me. Indeed, the desire is mutual; and, though I never thought of quitting my cottage, if you, with your usual kindness, will accompany me, I think we will venture to London. I am dear