rich, was content. I
had taken my degree; was about to be ordained; and, what is more, was
engaged to be married; in order, as I thought, to settle down as an
efficient country parson.

With this bright future before me, I went on very happily; when, one
evening, after a hard and tiring day, just as I was sitting down to
rest, a letter was put into my hand which had been following me for
several days. "Most urgent" was written on the outside. It told me of
the alarming illness of the lady to whom I was engaged, and went on to
say that if I wished to see her alive I must set off with all haste. It
took me a very short time to pack my bag and get my travelling coats and
rugs together, so that I was all ready to start by the night mail. At
eight o'clock punctually I left London for the journey of two hundred
and eighty miles. All that night I sat outside the coach; all the next
day; and part of the following night. I shall never forget the misery of
mind and body that I experienced, for I was tired before starting; and
the fatigue of sitting up all night, together with the intense cold of
the small hours of the morning, were almost beyond endurance. With the
morning, however, came a warm and bright sunshine, which in some degree
helped to cheer me; but my bodily suffering was so great that I could
never have held up had it not been for the mental eagerness with which I
longed to get forward. It was quite consonant with my feelings when the
horses were put into full gallop, especially when they were tearing down
one hill to get an impetus to mount another.

At length, the long, long journey was over; and about thirty hours after
starting, I found myself staggering along to the well-known house. As I
approached the door was softly opened by a relative who for several days
had been anxiously watching my arrival. She at once conducted me
upstairs, to what I expected was a sick chamber, when, to my horror, the
first thing I saw was the lid of a coffin standing up against the wall,
and in the middle of the room was the coffin, with candles burning on
either side.

I nearly fell to the ground with this tremendous shock and surprise.
There was the dear face, but it seemed absorbed in itself, and to have
lost all regard for me. It no longer turned to welcome me, nor was the
hand stretched out, as theretofore, to meet mine. All was still; there
was no smile--no voice--no welcome-nothing but the silence of death to
greet me.

Th