leaky boat, and pushed off as if the old inemy was arter him. “Miss Marget ran in the house to her mother. But in two minutes we heard her screaming like she was mad, and we all about the place rushed into the house, and up the stairs, into mistess’ chamber. And there we saw our mistess, lying on the floor, like one stone dead, and Miss Marget wringing her hands and crying, and trying to raise her. We were all scared almost to death, for there, besides, was the cabinet, where the plate and jewelry is kept, all open; and we made sure that that ’serter had robbed and frightened mistess into this swoon. Forrest went arter the doctor; and Hildreth and Aunt Hapzibah put her to bed, and tried every way to fetch her round. But when she come to herself, she fell into convulsions; and when that was over, she sunk into the same swoon. Then Aunt Hapsy sent me, pos’ haste, arter Miss Nellie an’ Mr. Ralph. An’ here I is, an’ dat’s all.” Nellie, who looked very pale and anxious, now touched the bell, and summoned Jezebel to bring her scarf, bonnet and gloves, while Mr. Houston went out to order the boat got ready to take them to the island. And in less than a quarter of an hour Mrs. Houston and Ralph, forgetful of their late feud in their common cause of anxiety, were seated side by side in the boat, that, propelled by six stalwart negro oarsmen, glided with directness and rapidity toward the island. As soon as the boat touched the beach Nellie sprang out, and without waiting an instant for Ralph, hurried to the house. “In her own bedroom, Mrs. Houston,” was the mournful reply of Hildreth to that lady’s hasty question. Nellie hastened upstairs and entered the chamber of sickness and death. Coming out of the brilliant light into the half-darkened room, Nellie at first saw only Dr. Hartley standing at the foot of the bed; as she advanced she found Margaret, pale, but still and self-collected, at the head. Nellie’s haste and anxiety sunk into awe as she saw, extended on the bed, the ruin of the once beautiful Marguerite De Lancie. All her late displeasure was forgotten or repented as she gazed upon that form and face so magnificent even in wreck. The pillows had been withdrawn to give her easier breathing, and her superb head lay low; the lace nightcap had been removed to give coolness to her throbbing temples, and her rich, purplish-black tresses, unbound, rolled in mournful splendor down each side of her pallid, sunken face, and flowed along upon the white counterpane; her eyes were half closed in that fearful state that is not sleep or waking, and that Nellie at first sight believed to be death. Mrs. Houston turned an appealing glance to the physician, who bent forward and murmured in an almost inaudible tone: “She is easier than she has been since her attack, madam. She has been resting thus for” (the doctor took out and consulted his watch) “twenty-five minutes.” “But what, then, is the nature of her illness?”