Our accounts were soon arranged, and I returned to my anxious family; but my disorder was increasing hourly. The wildest imaginations haunted and perplexed me. My beloved mother looked at me with tears swimming in her eyes. My eldest sister strove, by a hundred stratagems, to dispel the gloom that arose amongst us all. Emily sat, absorbed in her own melancholy thoughts, a fellow-sufferer, I fancied, with myself. My lovely, innocent, affectionate cousin held my fevered hand in one of hers, and imploringly asked me to be tranquil; said she would sing to me if I would try to sleep. I felt the gentle charm, and gave myself up to it. I laid myself upon the sofa; and she, whose name I cannot utter, sitting on a low stool by my side, sought to soothe me with her voice. THE SONG OF ----. "Come from Heaven, soft balmy Sleep, Since thou art an angel there! Come, and watch around him keep-- Watch that I with thee will share. Strew thy poppies o'er his head, Calm the fever of his mind; All thy healing virtues shed, That he may composure find!" "Oh, God!" I cried, jumping up; "and must I never call this angel mine? Better to die at once, or lose all consciousness of what a wretch I am!" "Hush, my dearest cousin! I have invoked an angel from the skies to visit you; drive her not away by ill-timed violence; here, let me hold your hand;" and she began again to murmur in a low tone, "Strew thy poppies o'er his head, Calm the fever of his mind." and so I fell asleep. When I awoke, my gentle cousin, (more constant than my heavenly visitant, Sleep,) was still seated by my side; all the rest were gone; candles burned on the table--it was midnight; I had slept for hours, she yet retained my hand. I looked at her, and burst into tears. "We are alone, Theodore," said my beloved; "tell me, I beseech you, what is labouring on your mind. You have spoken strange things during your sleep. You have declared that I had the power to restore you; can I do this? Theodore, be candid! Were it to cost my life, I would gladly lay it down to be of benefit to you." I could not answer her; but I clasped my arms round that pure, angelic form, and wept like an infant on her bosom. "Can I do you service, Theodore? You deny not what your lips murmured in sleep." "You can restore my reason, for you are the purest person that I know on earth." "By what means? But, alas! you are wandering still; this is one of your delusions! Would that it were in my power to heal thy mind, my dearest cousin." "In this, my heart's treasure, I am at least perfectly sane. _You have the power to cure me._" "Tell me the means."