"No, mamma, there was no time, the carriage drove off again so quickly; but, hush! I am sure I hear her voice down stairs," and he sprung up from the bed and listened eagerly. "Yes, yes, I am right, and she is coming up; no, it's only widow Morgan, but I am sure it is my aunt by your face," he added, impatiently, as Mrs. Morgan tried by signs to beg him to be more cautious, and not to agitate his mother. "Why don't you let her come up?" and springing down the whole flight of stairs in two bounds, he rushed into the little parlor, caught hold of the lady's dress, and exclaimed, "You are my aunt, my own dear aunt; do come up to mamma, she has been wanting you so long, so very long, and you will make her well, dear aunt, will you not?" "Oh, that I may be allowed to do so, dear boy!" was the painfully agitated reply, and she hastened up the stairs. But to Edward's grief and astonishment, so little was he conscious of his mother's exhausted state, the sight of his aunt, prepared in some measure as she was, seemed to bring increase of suffering instead of joy. There was a convulsive effort for speech, a passionate return of her sister's embrace, and she fainted. Edward in terror flung himself beside her, entreating her not to look so pale, but to wake and speak to him. Ellen, with a quickness and decision, which even at that moment caused her aunt to look at her with astonishment, applied the usual restoratives, evincing no unusual alarm, and a careless observer might have said, no feeling; but it was only a momentary thought which Mrs. Hamilton could give to Ellen, every feeling was engrossed in the deep emotion with which she gazed on the faded form and altered face of that still beloved though erring one: who, when she had last beheld her, thirteen years previous, was bright, buoyant, lovely as the boy beside them. Her voice yet, more than the proffered remedies, seemed to recall life, and after a brief interval the choking thought found words. "My father! my father! Oh, Emmeline I know that he is dead! My disobedience, my ingratitude for all his too indulgent love, killed him--I know it did. But did he curse me, Emmeline? did all his love turn to wrath, as it ought to have done? did--"