amily, but Miriam up to the time of her
acquaintance with Ackermann had been entirely free from any symptom of
it, or of any particular disease whatever. Whether this sudden
exhibition of it was the effect of natural causes, or was produced by
mortified love and pride, I leave the reader to conclude.

I was her constant attendant during her sickness. She could scarcely
bear me out of her sight. She had never spoken to me of Ackermann since
the interview in Annie's room. Now she seemed to take delight in talking
about him, and I was amazed at the intense hatred with which she
regarded him. She was gentle and patient under her sufferings, and
tender and loving at all times, except when speaking of him. Then all
the bad passions of her nature were aroused. It was in vain that I
represented to her that at such a time she should endeavor to be at
peace with all the world, and forgive as she hoped to be forgiven.

'If I have sinned against my God, as Henry Ackermann has sinned against
me, I neither expect or wish to be forgiven,'--was the only reply she
would make to such arguments. She had not the slightest feeling of ill
will against Annie; she spoke of her as a misguided, loving girl; but
often repeated the assertion that Ackermann and Annie would never be
married.

The physicians were inclined to think that Miriam would recover from
this attack, but she knew, she said, that she must die, and she exacted
a promise from me that I would watch over her body until it was
consigned to the grave, imploring me not to let indifferent people be
with her after death. I readily gave the promise, little knowing what a
fearful obligation I was taking upon myself.

One morning I left Miriam's bedside, and walked through the village in
order to get some exercise, and breathe the fresh air. I remember the
day well. It was in the latter part of May--a warm, sweet, sunny day,
with enough of chilliness in the air to give a zest to walking. I was
surprised at the ripeness and luxuriance of the foliage, so early for a
New England spring; but I was still more surprised at the aspect of our
usually silent village. The streets were full of men hurrying to and
fro, and groups of men, and women, too, stood at some of the corners. To
my utter amazement I learned that Annie had disappeared mysteriously the
night before. She had left home alone early in the evening, saying she
was going to the river, and had not returned. Search was made for her
d