CHAPTER IX.

Where that old woman night and day did pray,
Upon her beads, devoutly penitent;

Nine hundred Pater-nosters, every day,

And thrice nine hundred Aves she was wont to say.

And, to augment her painful penance more,
Thrice ev'ry week in ashes she did sit,

And next her wrinkled skin rough sackcloth wore,
And thrice three times did fast from any bit!

SPENSER

LADY Sarah's disease long baffled the efforts of the physician; who, at length, declared, as his opinion, that something lay heavy on the mind of his patient.

"All I can do, will be to abate the fever, if possible," concluded he;" and, after that, should I succeed, the soothing voice of tenderness will be more efficacious, in my judgment, than all the College of Physicians could do for her."

On the fourth day, the fever arose to an alarming height-but exhausted nature no longer supported the invalid with words: her sunken eye wander'd on vacancy, and those lips, which lately might have vied with the carnation, were now parch'd and colourless.

On one side of the bed sat the physician, pressing her pulse, and contemplating his watch; on the other, the heart-stricken parent, watching every movement of his

countenance.

After some time, he shook his head, and ejaculated, "It must be done it must be done!"

He pour'd a draught down her throat, and again seated himself beside her. At length she closed her eyes she breathed more freely—and a gentle perspiration took place. At the termination of three hours, (which to Lady Neville appear'd as many days) the patient open'd her languid eyes, and ask'd for her mother.

"I am here, my love!" answer'd the countess, in the most tender accents.

“I have had a very long dream, and a

very frightful one," said Sarah. “Thank Heaven! I am awake again."

The doctor check'd Lady Neville, who was going to give full vent to her emotions of joy, reminding her, that composure would tend more to the perfect restoration of Sarah than any thing else; at the same time, he assured her ladyship that all his apprehensions of death were dissipated.

This welcome intelligence she was desirous to communicate to Philip; and, leaving the room, she encounter'd him without the door. Solicitous about his sister, he had station'd himself at the threshold of her chamber, hardly daring to breath, from the fear of disturbing her.

Mutual congratulations pass'd between them; and the next day was fix'd for the mutual recital of their past lives. They met at the appointed time, and the countess once more indulged herself in the exquisite. luxury of embracing a long-lost child-saying, as she survey'd him attentively, "Thou art the image of thy noble father: at the first glance my senses acknowledged the resemblance: hence the exclamation which I

utter'd on the night your valour saved me from the robbers: for scarce could I believe but the re-animated form of my dear Neville stood before me."

"Whilst my heart, slow to the dictates of nature, avow'd not the presence of a being so very long desired-so long...."

"Blame not yourself," interrupted the countess ; "time and sorrow make dreadful havock on the human frame, and may defy the keenest memory or penetration. It is enough thou art here, at last, to give me solace."

"And never will I forget my gratitude to Providence, that made me the instrument of defending a mother, and a sister, from brutality. But tell me, (for my soul pants to know it) tell me the history of yourself, and of my father-Oh! tell me all!"

My story is long; but I shall relate it minutely, as I wish it to live in your memory."

66

Every word from your lips will be indelibly stamp'd thereon, as though it were engraven upon marble," said the duteous youth.

"Your sister, I know not why, declines to see you, at present; nay, she has conjured me not to name you in her hearing," said her ladyship; "the effect, I conjecture, of her late malady, which time will meliorate." (Philip rightly guess'd her reason for wishing to shun him, and sigh'd at the conviction). And now, my son, listen to my tale, and draw a proper inference from it."

"Proceed; I am all attention;" quoth Philip.

"My father, Lord Ravenglass, (one of the most antient barons this island boasted) died while I was a child; leaving me to the guardianship of a brother, by much my elder, on whom his titles and estates devolved-but, woe for me! he inherited not his virtues.

"Cornelius (that was my brother's name) was bred a catholic, of which persuasion were the whole of our family. Gloomy and unsocial, superstitious and vindictive, he regarded every one of a different religion. as an enemy to the Supreme Being; and frequently avow'd, he should have thought