“Sweet angel! can you give me tears to quench this raging fire?” he said, laying his hand upon his heart, “naught but tears can do it! They took them all away when Amy died.” Here nature yielded, and he sank exhausted. The purity of Ellen’s heart threw around her every act a halo of beauty; and Mr. Barker, who had been accustomed to see the fair ones of earth shrinking with horror and disgust from the poor fettered wretch deprived of reason, thought, as he gazed on Ellen as she knelt beside the unhappy sufferer and bathed his temples, that she was indeed an angel! And she had risen and spoken to him the second time, ere he was conscious of being addressed. “Mr. Barker,” she continued, without noticing his embarrassment, “cannot this poor man be removed to a more comfortable apartment? I am sure that he is perfectly harmless!” Seeing him hesitate, she continued—“Or, at least, till he can be removed to the insane hospital.” “I will consult Dr. L.,” and he turned to retire, when Lucy entered accompanied by that gentleman. “Oh, papa, I could not think what had become of you and Ellen—I waited till my patience was quite exhausted, when meeting Doctor L. I taxed his gallantry to help me find you.” “We are very glad, cousin, that you have brought the doctor hither,” said Ellen, “for Mr. Barker was just going in search of him, to see if this poor man cannot be removed to a more comfortable apartment in the main-building.” “I thought the poor fellow dead. He was sinking very fast two days ago.” “And have you not seen him since?” asked Ellen in surprise. “Oh, no! I think the sooner such people die the better. They have no enjoyment themselves, and are a burden to others. And as to his being removed to the main-building, a raging maniac—that cannot be thought of.” “I do not see,” persisted Ellen, “what objection can possibly be urged to removing a dying man to a comfortable room, even if he be a raging maniac.” “Really! Miss Lincoln,” said Doctor L. with a meaning smile, “you seem to have taken a very deep interest in the handsome stranger.” Ellen raised her full eyes upon him, and while a smile of pitying contempt cradled about her mouth, said calmly—“The suffering, doctor, always excite the sympathies of the _humane_, and I trust I am of that class.” And turning to the unconscious sufferer, she continued bathing his wrists and temples, as if to hide her emotion, while a tear trembled upon her downcast lids. “Let us go from here, Cousin Ellen,” whispered Lucy, “we can do the poor man no good.” “Dear Lucy,” said Ellen rising, “I cannot go and leave this poor creature without a soul near him in his last moments—and this good woman tells me that he has been pleading for some one to pray for him, which proves that reason has, at times, resumed her throne. And if uncle will consent, I will remain here, while Mr. Barker sends for the Rev. Mr. P., whose ear is ever open to the call of distress.”