As I was passing through the hall after dinner, I spied little Celia peeping out of the door of the children's apartment, in hope of seeing me pass. She flew to me, and begged I would take her in to the company. As I knew the interdict was taken off, I carried her into the saloon where they were sitting. She ran into Lucilla's arms, and said, in a voice which she meant for a whisper, but loud enough to be heard by the whole company, "Do, dear Lucilla, forgive me, I will never say another word about the curricle, and you sha'n't go to the Priory since you don't like it." Lucilla found means to silence her, by showing her the pictures in the "Peacock at Home;" and without looking up to observe the general smile, contrived to attract the sweet child's attention to this beautiful little poem, in spite of Sir John, who did his utmost to widen the mischief. CHAPTER XLIII. The next day, in the afternoon, Dr. Barlow called on us. By the uncommon seriousness of his countenance I saw something was the matter. "You will be shocked," said he, "to hear that Mr. Tyrrel is dying, if not actually dead. He was the night before last seized with a paralytic stroke. He lay a long time without sense or motion; a delirium followed. In a short interval of reason he sent, earnestly imploring to see me. Seldom have I witnessed so distressing a scene. "As I entered the room he fixed his glassy eyes full upon me, quite unconscious who I was, and groaned out in an inward hollow voice--'Go to now, ye rich men, weep and howl, for your miseries are come upon you.' I asked how he did. He replied still from St. James: 'How? why my gold and silver are cankered, the rust of them shall witness against me; they eat up my flesh as it were fire.' "I was astonished," continued Dr. Barlow, "to see so exact a memory coupled with so wild an imagination. 'Be composed, sir,' said I, seeing he began to recollect me, 'this deep contrition is a favorable symptom.' 'Dr. Barlow,' replied he, grasping my hand with a vehemence which corresponded with his look, 'have you never heard of riches kept by the owner thereof to his hurt? Restitution! Doctor, restitution! and it must be immediate, or it will be too late.' I was now deeply alarmed. 'Surely, sir,' said I, 'you are not unhappily driven to adopt St. James's next words--forgive me but--you can not surely have defrauded.' 'O no, no,' cried he, 'I have been what the world calls honest, but not what the Judge of quick and dead will call so. The restitution I must make is not to the rich, for any thing I have _taken_ from them, but to the poor, for what I have _kept_ from them. Hardness of heart would have been but a common sin, in a common man; but I have been a professor, Doctor, I will not say a hypocrite, for I deceived myself as much as others. But oh! how hollow has my profession been!' "Here seeing him ready to faint," continued Dr. Barlow, "I imposed silence on him, till he had taken a cordial. This revived him, and he went on.