-so plain was it, from his starts of restlessness, that he was sorely tried.-Once or twice, she attempted to talk to him of Lynchcombe ; hazarding inquiries concerning an aquarium, which, when they quitted the place, was in process of being added to the conservatory. But no answer could she obtain, beyond monosyllables recklessly applied. Sir John, usually so tenacious concerning his possessions, and so fond of enlarging on his improvements, listened as though he heard not.-Starting, every now and then, from his seat, he began to pace the room, whose dimensions afforded ample scope for an unquiet footstep; and once, instead of resuming his accustomed place on the sofa, he rushed to the window, and drawing aside the heavy damask curtains, unbarred the shutter, and peered out into the darkness. Perhaps he was reflecting on the dreary hours

of watchfulness which,

at that moment, were, for so many, fraught with anguish.

"Late as it is, I am half inclined to drive

over to Denny Cross," said he, suddenly addressing his sister." There they must know more than two girls like Netta and Hilda are likely to have been entrusted with."

A creature of ceremony, Mrs. Wroughton suggested the untimeliness of such a visit.—" It would be nearly ten o'clock before he got there. The family would have retired to bed."

As if there were bed-time that night for any one bearing the name of Pennington !

Surely," added she, "if you wish for further information, it would be better to send at once to the Castle?—The distance is nearly the same."

"Two hours ago, I dispatched a messenger with a letter to Edgar. Another, half-an-hour since, (when tea was brought in,) to see what delayed the return of the first."

"You seem really very uneasy, my dear John," said Mrs. Wroughton, again counting her stitches." But depend upon it, my niece's anxiety has exaggerated the state of the case.

How many people get through the typhus fever! Quite as many as fall victims to it. Particularly in Lord Dinton's class of life, well clothed, well fed, and well attended.-Quite a different case from that of the two poachers. (Thirteen,

and pass over two.)"

Had one syllable she uttered reached his ear, he would probably have felt inclined to snatch her unmeaning strip of work out of her hand, and fling it on the floor. But all he seemed to hear were the words written by his daughter:-" His state is desperate, he cannot live through the night."

If one of his messengers would only return and bring word that there was the slightest shade of amendment !

During one of his sister's more anxious investigation of her stitches, he had indeed written a few hasty lines to Hugh Pennington, and sent them off to Denny Cross; so that even if his grooms were detained at the Castle by the confusion of the moment, from the quiet

household of the old squire he was certain of a reply.

He was so far right, that the messenger to Denny Cross was the first to return. But,

alas! it was only to bring back his letter.-Mr. Hugh and Mr. Farmer had been away at Lord Dinton's since the afternoon. Mrs. Farmer was with her sister. None of the old servants would hear of breaking in upon their grief.For all now knew the worst-The anxieties of the conscience-struck Sir John must remain

unappeased.

But while he continued to pace his gorgeous saloons,—now shuddering with cold, beside a blazing fire, now retreating from its heat to the still uncurtained window, where he seemed to be interrogating the quiet stars, shining so serenely as if in mockery of his cares, — the overcharged hearts at Denny Cross were still patient. Their burthen was indeed heavy :but the heaviest are often the most bravely borne.

From the moment Edgar's last express arrived, summoning Farmer and his brother-inlaw to afford him their advice and support, and bidding them prepare the mind of Bessy for the grievous news that could not be long withheld, Miss Pennington, after one single outburst of grief and horror, had subsided into a sort of lethargy. Scarcely lethargy, however; for every faculty was poignantly sensitive. But the blood seemed to have forsaken her veins, so waxen white were her face and hands. Nor could the slightest variation of expression be detected in her vacant eyes.-Grief appeared to have paralysed her external frame, only to impart a sensibility more exquisite to every fibre of her heart.

She had proposed, in a steady though scarcely audible voice, to Mrs. Farmer, that they should go and sit by her father's bed-side: as if she considered that the stronghold of her life-the altar from which her prayers were likeliest to be heard. The old man lay, as usual, calm,