him some water to take the taste away.

"Thank you, nurse," said Seymour, as he again sank on his pillow.

CHAPTER SIXTY.

_Hor_. You see he is departing.

_Corn_. Let me come to him; give me him as he is. If he be turned to
earth, let me but give him one hearty kiss, and you shall put us both
into one coffin.

WEBSTER.

It was but a few minutes after the scene described in the last chapter,
that Emily awoke from her slumbers, and chid the sun for rising before
her. As soon as she was dressed, she descended to inquire after the
health of him whose fate was now entwined with her own. She gently
opened the door of the room. The shutters were yet closed, but the sun
poured his rays through the chinks, darting, in spite of the
obstruction, a light which rendered the night-lamp useless. The
curtains of the bed were closed, and all was quiet. Norah sat upon the
floor, her eyes fixed upon the ceiling with wild and haggard look, and
as she passed the beads which she was telling from one finger to the
other (her lips in rapid and convulsive motion, but uttering no sound),
it appeared as if she thought the remnant of her life too short for the
prayers which she had to offer to the throne above.

Emily, having in vain attempted to catch her eye, and fearful of waking
Seymour, tripped gently across, and pushed the nurse by the shoulder,
beckoning her out of the chamber. Norah followed her mistress into an
opposite room, when Emily, who had been alarmed by the behaviour of the
old woman, spoke in a low and hurried tone. "Good heavens, what is the
matter, Norah? You look so dreadful. Is he worse?"

"Och hone!" said the nurse, her thoughts evidently wandering.

"Tell me, nurse--answer me, is he worse?"

"I don't know," replied Norah; "the doctor will tell."

"Oh God; he's worse--I'm sure he is," cried Emily, bursting into tears.
"What will become of me, if my dear, dear Seymour--"

"_Your_ dear Seymour?" cried the startled Norah.

"Yes, my dear Seymour. I did not tell you--I love him, nurse--he loves
me--we have plighted our troth; and if he dies, what will become of me?"
continued the sobbing girl.

"Och hone! and is it the truth and the real truth that you're telling
me, and _was_ he to be your husband?"

"_Was_ he!--he _is_, Norah. What did you mean by _was_ he?" cried
Emily, in hurried accents, seizing the old woman by the wrist, with a
look of fearful anxiety.

"Did I say, was he?