y of a
sorrow-struck spirit, saying, 'Come to my aid ere I perish '?"

My fingers trembled as I broke the seal; I had to wipe a tear from my
eye ere I could begin to read. My agitation was great; it was soon to be
greater. The note contained very few words; they were these:--

"Sir,--I have not communicated to my brother, Sir Shafley Doubleton,
any circumstance of your unaccountable conduct yesterday evening. I hope
that my reserve will be appreciated by you, and

"I am, your faithful servant,

"'Martha Keats."

I did not faint, but I sat down on the grass, sick and faint, and I
felt the great drops of cold perspiration burst out over my forehead and
temples. "So," muttered I, "the venerable person I have been lecturing
is his Excellency's own sister! My exhortations to a changed life have
been addressed to a lady doubtless as rigid in morals as austere
in manners." Though I could recall none of the words I employed, I
remembered but too well the lesson I intended to convey, and I shuddered
with disgust at my own conduct. Many a time have I heard severest
censure on the preacher who has from the pulpit scattered words of
doubtful application to the sinners beneath; but here was I making a
direct and most odious attack upon the life and habits of a lady of
immaculate behavior! Oh, it was too--too bad! A whole year of sackcloth
and ashes would not be penance for such iniquity. How could she have
forgiven it? What consummate charity enabled her to pardon an offence
so gross and so gratuitous? Or is it that she foresaw consequences so
grave, in the event of disclosure, that she dreaded to provoke them?
What might not an angry brother, in such a case, be warranted in doing?
Would the world call any vengeance exorbitant? I studied her last phrase
over and over, "I hope my reserve will be appreciated by you." This may
mean, "I reserve the charge,--I hold it over you as a bail bond for the
future; diverge ever so little from the straight road, and I will say,
'Potts, stand forward and listen to your indictment.' She may have some
terrible task in view for me, some perilous achievement, which I cannot
now refuse. This old woman may be to me as was the Old Man of the Sea to
Sinbad. I may be fated to carry her forever on my back, and the dread
of her be a living nightmare to me." "At such a price, existence has no
value," said I, in despair. "Worse even than the bondage is the feeling
that I am no longer, to my own heart, the