He covered his face with his thin, wasted hands, and did not answer for some minutes; at length he looked up with a calm smile upon his lips, and said-- "Yes, I have forgiven all--even _him_!--" Oh, how much was contained in the stress laid so strongly and sadly upon that little word _Him!_ How I longed to hear the story of his wrongs from his own lips! but he was too weak and exhausted for me to urge such a request. Just then Dr. Morton came in, and after standing for some minutes at the bed-side, regarding his patient with fixed attention, he felt his pulse, spoke a few kind words, gave some trifling order to his mother and Mrs. C---, and left the room. Struck by the solemnity of his manner, I followed him into the outer apartment. "Excuse the liberty I am taking Dr. Morton; but I feel deeply interested in your patient. Is he better or worse?" "He is dying. I did not wish to disturb him in his last moments. I can be of no further use to him. Poor lad, it's a pity! he is really a fine young fellow." I had judged from Michael's appearance that he had not long to live, but I felt inexpressibly shocked to find his end so near. On returning to the sick room, Michael eagerly asked what the doctor thought of him? I did not answer--I could not. "I see," he said, "that I must die. I will prepare myself for it. If I live until the morning, will you, Madam, come and read to me again?" I promised him that I would--or during the night, if he wished it. "I feel very sleepy," he said. "I have not slept for many nights, but for a few minutes at a time. Thank God, I am entirely free from pain: it is very good of Him to grant me this respite." His mother and I adjusted his pillows, and in a few seconds he was slumbering as peacefully as a little child. The feelings of the poor woman seemed softened towards me, and for the first time since I entered the room she shed tears. I asked the age of her son? She told me that he was two-and-twenty. She wrung my hand hard as I left the room, and thanked me for my kindness to her poor _bhoy_. It was late that night when my husband returned from the country, and we sat for several hours talking over our affairs, and discussing the soil and situation of the various farms he had visited during the day. It was past twelve when we retired to rest, but my sleep was soon disturbed by some one coughing violently, and my thoughts instantly reverted to Michael Macbride, as the hoarse sepulchral sounds echoed through the large empty room beyond which he slept. The coughing continued for some minutes, and I was so much overcome by fatigue and the excitement of the evening that I fell asleep, and did not awake until six o'clock the following morning. Anxious to hear how the poor invalid had passed the night, I dressed myself and hurried to his chamber.