and every specific applied which Beville, Ann Beaumont, or Mrs. Fermor, could devise, for her recovery from her dangerous deathlike swoon.

The patience of Beville having been completely exhausted by no one coming from the castle to her, she at length left the nurse with the corse of poor dame Banks, and had only just time to inform lady Delamore that all was over, and of the shock Miss De Clifford had sustained by the poor deceased expiring on her bosom, and to create and feel alarm for Julia's safety (who had left the cottage so long before her, and had not yet returned), when the gardeners came, and increased that well-founded alarm.

In undressing our heroine, the sprain of her ancle was discovered; and this accident, with the death of dame Banks, it was believed occasioned her present alarming state; and lady Delamore, convinced that the unexpected sight of the marquis of Penmorva, after receiving so severe a shock, inflicted by him, would prove too much for Julia's nerves in their present shattered state, peremptorily insisted upon his quitting Julia's apartment, where he, with eloquent tears, implored permission to remain until she

should evince symptoms of recovery; but as to even that lady Delamore would not agree, he was compelled to take his station in the anti-room.

Lord St. Orville had escaped this scene of grief and consternation; for the moment he finished his admonitory conversation with the marquis, he had taken a hasty leave of his mother, and set out for Stratton Abbey, promising to return for her on the day she had appointed to go there.

The arrival of doctor Harlow only added to the general painful alarm. He found Julia's pulse all but gone, and the deadly cold and shivering of her frame almost invincible; but now, anxious in a great degree to save her, for her own sake as well as for his fame, he exerted every effort of his skill to effect it; but not for several hours could he venture to cherish any hope.

From the time that Julia unclosed her eyes, deep sighs broke from her surcharged bosom; but though her eyes were open, they were fixed on vacuity, and she appeared still unconscious of who surrounded, or who spoke to her, until late in the evening, when perception seemed gradually to return. Her eyes now rested in sad expres

sion upon every object they turned upon; her sighs became less deep and frequent, and she now evinced her comprehension of what was said to her, by assisting (though feebly she could perform it) to take her food and medicines, and to do all that seemed required of her. As she revived, doctor Harlow asked her if she suffered any pain? and questioned her if, in the fall, she had sprained her ancle by, her head had received any blow?

"No, no, only my heart did receive the blow; but, oh! how direful that was for me!" she feebly and lowly replied; then, quite exhausted from this exertion, she sunk into a gentle slumber, from which she was awakened by a shivering fit; when doctor Harlow, now convinced her shivering only proceeded from the irritation of her nerves, changed her medicines, and the happiest effect was soon visible.

Lady Delamore, who now began to feel that Julia was little less dear to her affection than her own most favoured child, sat by her pillow, in all the anguish of maternal solicitude. The eyes of Julia often rested, in sad expressive earnestness, upon this beloved friend's anxious countenance; and often,

with feeble exertion, she took her hand, and pressed it to her lips. At length she softly articulated, but with beseeching emphasis -“Oh, my best friend! was doctor Sydenham but here, I soon should be well quite." This was sufficient for lady Delamore, who instantly flew to her pen, wrote an entreaty to doctor Sydenham to come to his young friend, and sent it off by express immediately. On her ladyship's return to the bedside of our heroine, she told her she had sent for her venerable friend. A smile of animated pleasure beamed over the languid countenance of Julia; she pressed in gratitude the hand of her kind friend, and from that moment appeared infinitely more composed. She soon after, seeming suddenly to recollect those about her, entreated, with her accustomed sweetness, that every one might retire to rest, but those whom doctor Harlow should think necessary to sit up in her room. The doctor seconding her request, it was complied with; and soon after Julia fell into a sleep, from which she frequently started, but still she spoke not. Anxious for meditation, she sometimes closed her. eyes, to secure herself from interruption. She wept not, she sighed not; but her

thoughts, full of one great subject, rested within themselves; and to those about her, her words were now confined to thanks for their kindness to her, and short sentences, expressive of regret for giving so much trouble.

The next day, and the succeeding one to that, Julia was unable to leave her bed, and the same disposition to taciturnity remained. Still her accents were sweet, kind, and gentle, when she spoke; but all, observing her anxious wish for meditation, forbore to interrupt her unnecessarily. She took her food and medicines regularly, and even eagerly, declaring her solicitude to aid doctor Harlow in her speedy recovery; and though her voice was plaintive, her look pensive, yet she wore the countenance and mien of the most calm and dignified resignation; and often, most often, in her hours of meditation, her hands and heart were raised in prayer and meditation to the Most High.

From the moment Julia was pronounced out of danger, lady Delamore would have found it a matter of impossibility to prevent the marquis of Penmorva from presenting himself at her bedside to look at her, and see that she was really in existence, had not the conviction of our heroine's knowledge of his