be laid down again, as it had finished, she said. She remained perfectly still till about half-past one in the morning, when she turned towards me, and pressing my hand, said in a whisper, "Are we alone?"

"Yes, madam," I replied.

She then, in a clear tone, said, “Theresa, dear, kind Theresa, tell him I forgive him ; that I pity, that I still dearly love him. May God bless him and forgive him too!"

She then took from her finger a ring. "Give him this when I am dead; he will remember it."

She then remained motionless for nearly half an hour, when drawing me gently towards her she said, "See me buried by my dear father."

I could not answer, my heart was too full. She saw it, and kissing me, said, "God bless you, my dear, kind, gentle friend."

She again closed her eyes, and I hoped was going to doze. Alas! she never opened them again. Within twenty minutes from that time I heard her breathe one long, deep sigh. It

was her last; and the sun which began to stream through the window curtains fell upon her inanimate corpse.

How Sir Edward took the sad intelligence I never knew. Miss Lovelyn affected surprise, Mrs. Lovelyn horror, at remaining in the house with a dead body, and quitted it with her daughter for an hotel, till the funeral should be

over.

Dr. Matson took me with him to the family burial-place, that we might pay the last sad duties to my dear and unfortunate lady. The Earl of St. Clare, her second cousin, was chief mourner, and I was surprised to see immediately behind his lordship, Sir Edward Jordyn.

As soon as all was over, and every one but Dr. Matson and myself had left the church, we were also about to do so, with hearts full of sad thoughts, when we encountered Sir Edward in the porch. Dr. Matson did not choose to recognize him, but remembering the ring confided to me by Lady Helen, and thinking this the best and only opportunity I might have of

speaking to the baronet, I left the side of Dr. Matson, to whom I mentioned my intention, and returned to the door of the church, where Sir Edward was still standing. I gave him the ring with Lady Helen's dying message, though I could hardly speak from the sobs which almost choked my utterance. He took the ring, looked at it sadly, then kissed it and put it on his finger without saying a word.

I left him and returned immediately to Cheltenham, while Dr. Matson proceeded to town, where he wished me to accompany him. This, however, I was unable to do, having had no time to arrange and pack up my things; besides, I was unwilling to come again in contact with Dr. Buckler, whose cause the kind doctor had been again advocating with me.

As it was extremely repugnant to my feelings to enter again the house which contained Miss Lovelyn, and where poor Lady Helen had suffered so much, I had secured a lodging for myself and my late lamented lady's maid, till I could arrange matters for leaving Cheltenham entirely. We had remained here a

week, when I received a letter from Dr. Matson, enclosing a copy of Lady Helen's will, which, it appeared, she had made unknown to me or any one, except the lawyer and his clerk who had witnessed it. It was dated the day after she had surprised Sir Edward and Miss Lovelyn together, and the very last day the poor lady was ever out of the house. It was drawn up in her own hand and was very short. She bequeathed five hundred pounds to her old friend, Dr. Matson, and to me one hundred pounds, with her piano, wardrobe, and books. I was much surprised and deeply grateful at this most liberal mark of Lady Helen's kindness, for I had only lived one year and a half with this gentle mistress.

I became exceedingly anxious to leave Cheltenham, as I was disgusted by seeing daily from my windows the heartless Miss Lovelyn, with (it was said) her accepted lover, Sir Edward Jordyn.

Matters connected with the unexpected and handsome legacy of my lamented friend and mistress, detained me a few weeks longer.

Though some years passed before I heard anything more of Sir Edward Jordyn and Miss Lovelyn, I may as well now record what in after years was communicated to me by one who well knew their true history.

On the return of Mrs. and Miss Lovelyn to London, Sir Edward followed them. He soon found, however, to his inexpressible mortification, that though his attentions were acceptable and apparently agreeable at Cheltenham, where there was at that time a dearth of beaux, and Miss Lovelyn had a particular end to answer in flirting with him, his society was merely required in London to swell her train. The moment his own vanity was piqued, his eyes were opened, and to his dismay he found that he was not only neglected, but laughed at by the heartless beauty. He hovered for some months around the flame that had scorched him, hoping he might find himself mistaken. At last, convinced that he had been made a fool in her hands, and that so far from loving him as he had imagined, she only despised him, he retired to his country seat to ponder over in