I rang the bell, and called loudly for assistance. Mrs Nagger came hurrying into the room. I raised the insensible form; and held it in my arms--while the old housekeeper rubbed her hands, and applied such restoratives as were near. It seemed as if Jessie H--was never again to be restored to life. She lay against my bosom like a piece of cold white marble with not a movement to betoken that she was breathing. I gently placed her on a couch--resting her pale cheek upon the pillow. I then requested Mrs Nagger to summon a doctor. "It's no use, sir," said the woman, her words causing me a painful apprehension: for I thought that she meant to say there was no hope of recovery. "It's no use, sir," repeated Mrs Nagger, "she'll be over it before the doctor could get here. She's only fainting; and more's the pity, that such a dear pretty creetur should know the trouble that's causing it. More's the pity! that's all I can say." Mrs Nagger's prognosis proved correct, for Jessie soon recovered, and as she did so, my composure became partially restored. I began to breathe more freely: for not being used to scenes of this kind, I had felt not only excited, but very much alarmed. "Jessie," said I, as I saw her fix her eyes upon me, "you are ill--you have been fainting?" "No," she answered, "I have only been thinking--thinking of what you have said. It was something about--" She interrupted herself at sight of Mrs Nagger--whom she now noticed for the first time. The presence of the housekeeper appeared to make her conscious of what had occurred; and for some moments she remained silent--pressing her hands against her forehead. Mrs Nagger perceiving, that she was the cause of some embarrassment, silently retired from the room. "Rowland," said Jessie, after the woman had gone, "I have but a few words more to say. To-morrow I am to be married to Mr Vane. It is my father's wish; and, as I have been told that his wishes should be my own, I have consented to obey him. I have tried to love this man but in vain: for I love another. I love you, Rowland. I cannot govern my feelings; and too well do I remember your own words, when you said, we could only love one. I will leave you now, Rowland: I have told you all." "Jessie," said I, "I am truly sorry for you; but I trust that after your marriage you will think differently; and will not allow any memories of the past to affect your happiness." "I thank you for your good wishes," she answered, "I will, try to bear my cruel fate with composure. Farewell, Rowland! I shall now leave you. I shall go as I have come--alone." As I took her hand in mine--to speak that parting, which was to be our last--she fixed her eyes upon me in a glance I shall not forget till my dying hour. In another instant she was gone.