omen any more.
The doctor called her a 'forte et belle jeune femme:' and he said she was
as noble a soul as ever God moulded clay upon. A noble soul 'forte et
belle!' She lies upstairs. If he can look on her and not see his sin, I
almost fear God will never enlighten him."

She died five days after she had been removed. The shock had utterly
deranged her. I was with her. She died very quietly, breathing her last
breath without pain--asking for no one--a death I should like to die.

"Her cries at one time were dreadfully loud. She screamed that she was
'drowning in fire,' and that her husband would not come to her to save
her. We deadened the sound as much as we could, but it was impossible to
prevent Richard from hearing. He knew her voice, and it produced an
effect like fever on him. Whenever she called he answered. You could not
hear them without weeping. Mrs. Berry sat with her, and I sat with him,
and his father moved from one to the other.

"But the trial for us came when she was gone. How to communicate it to
Richard--or whether to do so at all! His father consulted with us. We
were quite decided that it would be madness to breathe it while he was in
that state. I can admit now--as things have turned out--we were wrong.
His father left us--I believe he spent the time in prayer--and then
leaning on me, he went to Richard, and said in so many words, that his
Lucy was no more. I thought it must kill him. He listened, and smiled. I
never saw a smile so sweet and so sad. He said he had seen her die, as if
he had passed through his suffering a long time ago. He shut his eyes. I
could see by the motion of his eyeballs up that he was straining his
sight to some inner heaven.--I cannot go on.

"I think Richard is safe. Had we postponed the tidings, till he came to
his clear senses, it must have killed him. His father was right for once,
then. But if he has saved his son's body, he has given the death-blow to
his heart. Richard will never be what he promised.

"A letter found on his clothes tells us the origin of the quarrel. I have
had an interview with Lord M. this morning. I cannot say I think him
exactly to blame: Richard forced him to fight. At least I do not select
him the foremost for blame. He was deeply and sincerely affected by the
calamity he has caused. Alas! he was only an instrument. Your poor aunt
is utterly prostrate and talks strange things of her daughter's death.
She is only happy in drudging. Dr. Bai