from her, but it was
short, and sad, and unsatisfactory in all respects. She had had a
terrible disappointment she said, but her friends must have forbearance
with her, and excuse her from detailing the events of the past few
weeks. She was now at Springdale with her kind old friend, the
clergyman, and was just recovering from a long and tedious illness; she
hoped soon to be able to be at work again, and a little school was ready
for her, as soon as she should be sufficiently restored to take charge
of it. Not one word was said of her brother, or of her reasons for
returning to the home of the old clergyman.

"She is evidently very unhappy," said Mr. Wharton, "and perhaps her
funds are exhausted. She must return to us, and for this purpose I will
send her the means without delay."

But still Miss Edwards did not come, and her letters were few and far
between. At length there came one written in much better spirits, and in
her old cheerful style, in which she informed them that she was engaged
to be married to a young physician of that place. She seemed now very
happy, and full of bright anticipations, not the least cheering of
which, was the prospect of visiting her kind friends once more, when she
should travel to the east on her bridal tour. And this was the last
letter they ever received from Miss Edwards.

That same summer a package came to Mr. Wharton, directed in an unknown
hand, from a place, the name of which he had never heard before. It was
from a physician, and ran thus:

SIR,--I was called a few weeks since to attend a young lady, who was
lying dangerously ill, at the only tavern in our little village. I found
her raving in delirium, and your name, and the names of many whom I
suppose to be members of your family, were constantly mingled with her
ravings. She had stopped at the tavern the night before in the stage;
and when the other passengers went on was too ill to proceed with them.
I attended her constantly for a week or ten days, and at the end of that
time, I had the happiness to find that her fever had entirely left her,
and her mind was quite restored. She was, however, extremely weak, and
feeling assured, she said, that she should never be able to reach the
home of her kind friends, (mentioning the name of your family,) she
begged earnestly for writing materials, and though I remonstrated and
entreated, I found it impossible to prevent her writing. She said she
had a communication which it was