son returned to town from Brighton: they would seek her at her lodgings, and they would be directed to her present abode: for in the simplicity of her mind she had not for a moment thought of concealing the dwelling to which she was hastening, but had left directions for all letters or inquiries to follow her there.

Calmly and patiently therefore she seated herself in what, though dignified with the name of a room, might more properly have been called a cell.

She looked round it at first with a shudder; but it was only momentary. It was so much better than that in which she had first discovered Charles, that she felt as if she had cause to be thankful in having obtained it.

"And if it were worse than that," she said, "the mind is its own place; and while I have such a consolation as this," and she took into her hand that sacred volume, which she had not failed to bring with her, as well judging, in this scene of sorrow, how much it would be her all, "while I have this comfort," she continued, "I want but little else beside." She began to read, but her attention was so frequently abstracted by the convulsive starting, and indications of pain which the broken slumbers of Charles betrayed, that she found it impossible to fix her thoughts as she could wish.

His moans became almost incessant, and, believing him awake, she hastened to his side.

But he still slept, though with an uneasiness so evident, as almost tempted her to awaken him.

His labouring breast, his burning cheeks and hands, indicated excess of fever; and trembling at the pos

sibility of his being attacked with severe illness in this dreadful place, a horror greater than she had yet experienced took possession of her heart.

“Oh, my good God!" she exclaimed, in the terror of her thoughts, "lay not upon me more than 【 can bear!"

But fearful that misfortune was about to make her querulous and doubtful of those divine assurances, which, in every trial, had hitherto supported her,

"Yet be it as Thou wilt," she said, with energy; "I know that Thou art with me here and everywhere!"

The uneasiness of Charles became every moment more oppressive, and at length alarmed her so much, that she could not refrain from speaking to him.

He started up as she called him by his name, and looked about him with a wildness the most alarming. "Oh, my dear, dear husband," said she, bursting into tears, "what can be the meaning of this?. Speak to me, Charles, where is your pain?"

"Here, here," and he clasped his hands upon his head.

She pressed it to her bosom, and it felt like fire.

"What can I do for him?-oh, what can I do?— will nobody come to me-nobody!" she incessantly repeated, in accents interrupted by sobs; alternately bewailing herself, and trying to soothe his sufferings, which seemed every instant to become more insupportable.

At length she heard a footstep on the stairs. She laid his head gently on the pillow, and flew to the door. A person was passing by it-she cared little for his being a stranger.

"Oh, sir, if you have any compassion in you,” she said, "seek instantly for some medical man, and send him here."

The person to whom she thus passionately addressed herself, professed the utmost readiness to be of use, though he remained immoveable, while he uttered innumerable inquiries as to the nature of the case.

Matilda not having the power to reply to them, he used no ceremony in satisfying his curiosity by following her into the apartment, where the sight of Charles extended on his couch, and piteously com-. plaining of his head, afforded him some solution of the question.

Again Matilda repeated her intreaties that he would seek for some medical aid.

After begging her, civilly enough, not to alarm herself, for he hoped her fears were groundless, he departed, promising to dispatch the doctor to her directly.

When more than two hours elapsed, and no one arrived, Charles in the mean time rapidly and visibly getting worse, her agony of mind became so excessive, that she determined upon going herself to seek for assistance; but at this moment a knock at the door announced an arrival.

She opened it, and perceived a tall, shabby, sourlooking man.

"Oh, there is some one ill here, I believe-here, is it?" and he turned to look at the number over the door, to assure himself he was not mistaken.

Matilda satisfied him he had come to the right place, by telling the case in hurried accents, and de

siring to know his opinion, before indeed he had well had time to form any.

Much inured to sights of misery (for he was the prison doctor, and, as such, had added to the natural indifference which his profession inspired for bodily pain, that contempt of it which sprung from a consciousness of the great probability of not being paid for administering to its relief) he gave very little heed to her anxiety, and returned no answer at all to her question; but having leisurely felt his patient's pulse, made a few brief inquiries, and given some simple directions, he merely added that he would send him a composing draught, and was departing, still-impenetrable to the intreaties of Matilda that he would tell her his opinion of the complaint.

"How can I tell, young woman?" he replied sharply. "It may be some weeks before it comes to a crisis, or it may be two or three days. It may turn out a fever on the brain, or it may be nothing more than the effect of mental agitation, which a quieting draught and a good night may alleviate. We can tell nothing till to-morrow morning."

"Then I shall see you again in the morning-oh, pray for pity's sake come!" and a thought occurred to her, that a doubt, reasonable enough, about her finances might make him somewhat tardy with his services, "you may rest assured of every remuneration," she added; "we are not without friends."

This remark was very judiciously applied. His countenance instantaneously relaxed some of its austerity, and he returned back a step or two of the stairs he had descended, to give some fresh directions, adding as he did so," I hope we shall do very

well; I see nothing at all alarming-nothing but what you have quite sufficiently accounted for."

Inexpressibly relieved by this assurance, Matilda suffered him to depart, and returned to take her station by the side of her husband.

CHAPTER XV.

THE morning came, but brought with it no alleviation. Charles was infinitely worse. A night of restlessness and increasing pain had deprived him almost totally of all rationality. He said but littlebut what he did say was rambling and incoherent. Incessantly he called for Matilda, not for two successive minutes conscious of her presence, though she hung over his pillow, and held his hand to her heart.

The return of the apothecary gave her no comfort; for she felt that he was, deceiving her, when, in defiance of these alarming symptoms, he persisted in assuring her that he saw no danger.

Her dread of doing wrong in the trying and responsible situation in which she found herself, made her determine before the close of the day to write to Mr. St. Aubyn, telling him the particulars of her present distress, and intreating his counsel; though even in this heavy trial her delicate mind shrunk from making such a decided claim upon his kindness. But she felt it now to be indispensable to procure for