n though the whole of
it remained unspoken, broke down her feelings, and she burst into
tears.

Instinctively, Mr. Condy reached for his hat and cane, and as he saw
Ellen recover, by a strong effort, her self-possession, he said--

"It is too late for you to go home alone, Ellen, and as we cannot
ask you, under the circumstances, to stay all night, I will go with
you."

Ellen looked her gratitude, for she was really afraid to go into the
street alone at that late hour. As they walked along, Mr. Condy, by
many questions, ascertained that Ellen had been almost compelled to
work day and night to make up mourning garments for his family, and
to absent herself from her sick sister, while she needed her most
careful attention. Arrived at her humble dwelling, his benevolent
feelings prompted him to ascertain truly the condition of Margaret,
for his heart misgave him that her end was very nigh.

On entering the chamber, they found Mrs. Ryland, the neighbour who
lived below, supporting Margaret in the bed, who was gasping for
breath as if every moment in fear of suffocation. Ellen sprung
forward with a sudden exclamation, and, taking Mrs. Ryland's place,
let the head of her sister fall gently upon her bosom. Mr. Condy
looked on for a moment, and then hastily retired. As soon as he
reached home, he despatched a servant for the family physician, with
a special request to have him visit Ellen's sister immediately. He
then went into his wife's chamber, where the daughters, with their
mother, were engaged in looking over their new morning apparel.

"I'm afraid," said he, "that you have unintentionally been guilty of
a great wrong."

"How?" asked Mrs. Condy, looking up with sudden surprise.

"In keeping Ellen here so late from her sister, who is, I fear, at
this moment dying."

"Is it possible!" exclaimed the mother and daughters with looks of
alarm.

"It is, I fear, too true. But now, all that can be done is to try
and make some return. I want you, Mary, and your mother, to put on
your bonnets and shawls and go with me. Something may yet be done
for poor Margaret. I have already sent for the doctor."

On the instant Mrs. Condy and Mary prepared themselves, and the
former put into a small basket some sugar and a bottle of wine, and
handed it to her husband, who accompanied them, at that late hour,
to the dwelling of the two sisters. On entering the chamber, they
found no one present but Ellen and Margaret. The latter sti