shoulder. "I trust not, my poor
child," said he; "but it is my duty to warn you of the consequences
of giving way to excessive grief."

"Oh, doctor! you are quite right, and I will try very hard not to
give way again."

During this conversation, which was low and hurried, General Pomeroy
lay without hearing any thing of what they were saying. His lips
moved, and his hands picked at the bed-clothes convulsively. Only one
idea was in his mind--the accomplishment of his wishes. His
daughter's grief seemed to have no effect on him whatever. Indeed, he
did not appear to notice it.

"Speak to her, doctor," said he, feebly, as he heard their voices.
"Tell her I can not die happy unless she is married--I can not leave
her alone in the world."

The doctor looked surprised. "What does he mean?" he said, taking
Zillah aside. "What is this fancy? Is there any thing in it?"

"I'm sure I don't know," said Zillah. "It is certainly on his mind,
and he can't be argued or humored out of it. It is an arrangement
made some years ago between him and Lord Chetwynde that when I grew
up I should marry his son, and he has just been telling me that he
wishes it carried out now. Oh! what--what _shall_ I do?" she added,
despairingly. "Can't you do something, doctor?"

"I will speak to him," said the latter; and, approaching the bed, he
bent over the General, and said, in a low voice:

"General Pomeroy, you know that the family physician is often a kind
of father-confessor as well. Now I do not wish to intrude upon your
private affairs; but from what you have said I perceive that there is
something on your mind, and if I can be of any assistance to you I
shall be only too happy. Have you any objection to tell me what it is
that is troubling you?"

While the doctor spoke the General's eyes were fixed upon Zillah with
feverish anxiety. "Tell her," he murmured, "that she must consent at
once--at once," he repeated, in a more excited tone.

"Consent to what?"

"To this marriage that I have planned for her. She knows. It is with
the son of my old friend, Lord Chetwynde. He is a fine lad, and comes
of a good stock. I knew his father before him. I have watched him
closely for the last five years. He will take care of her. He will
make her a good husband. And I--shall be able to die--in peace. But
it must be done--immediately--for he is going--to India."

The General spoke in a very feeble tone, and with frequent pauses.

"And do you wish