To compose, and turn his thoughts to other things, Emmeline had again recourse to religion; and, when thus employed, and while the last rays of the evening sun shone faintly through the curtains of the sick room on her kneeling figure, and on the sacred book she held in her hand, the door of the apartment slowly opened, and Fitzhenry appeared. He started back on seeing Emmeline, and, for a moment, stood still, as if awed by the scene before him; but Reynolds recognizing him, and exclaiming—“’Tis him! God be praised, I shall now die in peace,” Fitzhenry hastened up to him, kindly taking his extended hand; then again looking at Emmeline—“Good God! Lady Fitzhenry, since when have you been here?” “Only a day or two; I was sent for,” said Emmeline, hardly knowing whether thus unexpectedly seeing her had given him pain or pleasure. “I was so bold as to send for her ladyship,” said Reynolds. “It was my request, my dying request. I knew I had not long to live. I knew I should not die easy, unless I could once more see you, once more see that angel!” and still grasping Fitzhenry with one hand, he held out the other to Emmeline. At such a moment, not to comply with any wish of the sick man, was impossible; though, half fearful of his intention, she tremblingly put her hand in his. “Dear, dear Lord Fitzhenry,” continued Reynolds, “you know I love you as if you were my own son. Death makes us all equal, and it makes me bold. I have often wished, longed, to speak to you, but felt it was not my place; and I had not courage; but listen to a dying man’s advice. I know all—you know I do. Oh, my dear master! repent, and turn from your evil ways! Do not any longer trifle with God, and with the happiness he has offered you! Do not cast from you the angel Heaven has sent you!”—and he joined their hands. “God of heaven!” he continued, with a trembling voice, “look down on these, thy servants, and make them happy together!” Fitzhenry’s head fell on the bed, as if wishing to avoid the eyes of Emmeline, as he involuntarily sunk on his knees. As for Emmeline, overcome and terrified at what had passed; fearful as to the manner in which Fitzhenry might interpret such a seemingly premeditated appeal to his feelings in her behalf; perhaps, even, humbled at the situation in which it placed her, she hastily, almost unconsciously, withdrew her hand from the feeble grasp of the dying man, while his dimmed eyes were still raised to heaven; and, before either he, or her husband, had time to discover her intention, she hastily left the room.