posture, and stretching out her arms with a graceful earnestness, "to you I commit the happiness of my son. I speak prophetically-I speak as from the mansions of the dead, for thither I am hastening-he is formed to render you happy-you only can make him so. Oh! suffer me to die in the belief that you will mutually console and support each other; let me now unite your hands, if not in solemn affiance, in a bond of indissoluble friendship, never to be bro. ken till the termination of existence. My son, my dear son, how I feel, at this moment, the kindness you have ever shewn me! Miss Mountstewart, I thank you, from the centre of my heart, for all your goodness. We shall all meet again, I trust, in happiness.” More she would have spoken, but quite exhausted, she leaned back upon her pillow, and gasped convulsively. Sir Charles, still on his knees, pressed the trembling hand of Constance to his lips; and Constance, in the same moment, returned the pressure-it was a sweet, a silent assurance of esteem; she instantly withdrew her hand, and flew to a table for a revivifying cordial; she put it to the lips of the invalid, and it appeared to reanimate her-she opened her eyes-she tried to speak, but her voice failed-she stretched out her arm, and again seemed to utter an incoherent ejaculation, and, after a few moments, sunk into a torpor, which continued many hours. Constance and Sir Charles knelt together by the bed side; neither dared speak, yet the tears of both flowed freely. The face of Lady Jane was concealed from their view by the bed cloaths; yet the convulsive flutter of her whole frame spoke the last efforts of expiring nature, and in about a quarter of an hour every struggle had subsided. Sir Charles gently withdrew the cloaths-the face was serene and composed, Death had claimed his victim; and, in awful silence, Sir Charles ed Constance from the apartment. CHAP. XV. What is life? oh, ask the sage, This is life, the sages know, MARTHA HOMELY'S POEMS. CONSTANCE retired to her own room, where she passed many hours in serious reflections on the vanity of all worldly possessions, and wept over the memory of that being so recently recalled to her native mansions; she implored the support and protection of her Almighty Father, in the journey of her future life, and besought him so to guide and strengthen her, that on the bed of death she might be able, like her departed friend, to look forward with confidence and hope. A serenity in sorrow, a meek acquiescence in the divine dispensations, was the consequence of her pious reflections; and feeling that Sir Charles had, in his present anguish, a claim upon her attentions, she determined to overcome self, and use every effort to console him; she met him, therefore, as usual, at the dinner-table; and though neither could force down a morsel of the good things which were set before them, yet each strove to converse upon indifferent subjects, and to draw the attention of the other from the melancholy scene so lately witnessed. When the servants had withdrawn, Sir Charles drew a chair to the side of Constance, and, seating himself in it, addressed her as follows-" This house and these scenes will now become quite insupportable to you, Miss Mountstewart; the memory of Lady Jane will embitter every object, and perhaps you already anticipate the moment of bidding me farewell.” "Believe me, you are mistaken," said Constance, with emotion; "the memory of Lady Jane, far from embittering, will ever attach me to scenes she once loved and cherished; yet, in the present state of things, you must, Sir Charles, see the necessity of my quitting, and that almost immediately, a house where there is no longer a mistress to sanction my residence. I speak to you," continued she, with earnestness, friend-to one in whom I can securely confide -to one whose knowledge of the world will afford me the advantage of experience, and who would offer me the same counsel and advice. which I could expect, had nature given me a brother." as to a "My interest in your happiness, in all that concerns you, you cannot doubt," said Sir Charles with energy. "Oh that I could but flatter myself, that I could but hope you would be equally interested for me! I see all you would insinuate; I feel the propriety which dictates. your wish to remove from hence; I only beg you to defer that removal for a few days, only till I can in person attend you to your own mansion; in the mean time, I will request Mr. Rabey, the village pastor, to spare one of his lovely daughters to be your companion.” "But why should I put you to the inconve nience of taking so long a journey?" asked the timid Constance. "The inconvenience is nothing," said Sir Charles; "the first pleasure of my life consists in your society; then surely you will not narrow the compass of my enjoyments. I will form no presumptuous wishes from this indulgence-I will not even urge my own happiness-I will not even address you upon a subject ever nearest to my heart, if you command it, till I have placed you under the sanction of your own roof; yet I must tell you how severely I shall feel this restriction-I must tell you, that, after that period, I will persecute you with my importunities— nor will I ever relinquish my hopes, till you either consent to become mine, or I behold you indissolubly united to another." "You have already encroached upon the terms marked out by yourself," said Constance, with affected gaiety; "and I believe, in my own defence, I must run away from you." "You will recollect," answered Sir Charles, with a half smile, "that those commands have not yet been issued." Constance was about to speak; but he put his hand on her lips, and exclaimed-"Hear me |