pped out of his hands.

Terrified, they picked up the fallen paper; it told briefly, in a few
heartrending words, that, after writing the letter, Mrs. Williams had
been taken ill; that her life was absolutely despaired of, and that,
before the letter reached England, she would, in all human probability,
be dead. It conveyed the impression of a soul resigned indeed, and
humble, but crushed down to the very earth with the load of mysterious
bereavement, and irretrievable sorrow.

"Oh, I have killed her, I have killed my mother!" said Eric, in a hollow
voice, when he came to himself. "O God, forgive me, forgive me!"

They gathered round him; they soothed, and comforted, and prayed for
him; but his soul refused comfort, and all his strength appeared to have
been broken down at once like a feeble reed. At last a momentary energy
returned; his eyes were lifted to the gloaming heaven where a few stars
had already begun to shine, and a bright look illuminated his
countenance. They listened deeply--"Yes, mother," he murmured, in broken
tones, "forgiven now, for Christ's dear sake. O thou merciful God! Yes,
there they are, and we shall meet again. Verny--oh, happy, happy at
last--too happy!"

The sounds died away, and his head fell back; for a transient moment
more the smile and the brightness played over his fair features like a
lambent flame. It passed away, and Eric was with those he dearliest
loved, in the land where there is no more curse.

"Yes, dearest Eric, forgiven and happy now," sobbed Mrs. Trevor; and her
tears fell fast upon the dead boy's face, as she pressed upon it a long,
last kiss.

CHAPTER XIV

CONCLUSION

"And hath that early hope been blessed with truth?
Hath he fulfilled the promise of his youth?
And borne unscathed through danger's stormy field
Honor's white wreath and virtue's stainless shield?"

HARROW. A Prize Poem.

The other day I was staying with Montagu. He has succeeded to his
father's estate, and is the best-loved landlord for miles around. He
intends to stand for the county at the next general election, and I
haven't the shadow of a doubt that he will succeed. If he does,
Parliament will have gained a worthy addition. Montagu has the very soul
of honor, and he can set off the conclusions of his vigorous judgment,
and the treasures of his cultivated taste, with an eloquence that rises
to extraordinary grandeur when he is fulminating his scorn at any
specie