“Elinor set out directly. The purity of her feelings had formed an impenetrable barrier between her heart and its object,--and she apprehended no more danger from the presence of one who was wedded, and wedded to her relative, than from that of her own brother. “She arrived at the Castle--Margaret’s hour of danger had begun--she had been very ill during the preceding period. The natural consequences of her situation had been aggravated by a feeling of dignified responsibility on the birth of an heir to the house of Mortimer--and this feeling had not contributed to render that situation more supportable. “Elinor bent over the bed of pain--pressed her cold lips to the burning lips of the sufferer--and prayed for her. “The first medical assistance in the country (then very rarely employed on such occasions) had been obtained at a vast expence. The widow Sandal, declining all attendance on the sufferer, paced through the adjacent apartments in agony unutterable and _unuttered_. “Two days and nights went on in hope and terror--the bell-ringers sat up in every church within ten miles round--the tenantry crowded round the Castle with honest heartfelt solicitude--the neighbouring nobility sent their messages of inquiry every hour. An accouchement in a noble family was then an event of importance. “The hour came--twins were born dead--and the young mother was fated to follow them within a few hours! While life yet remained, Margaret shewed the remains of the lofty spirit of the Mortimers. She sought with her cold hand that of her wretched husband and of the weeping Elinor. She joined them in an embrace which one of them at least understood, and prayed that their union might be eternal. She then begged to see the bodies of her infant sons--they were produced; and it was said that she uttered expressions, intimating that, had they not been the heirs of the Mortimer family--had not expectation been wound so high, and supported by all the hopes that life and youth could flatter her with,--she and they might yet have existed. “As she spoke, her voice grew feebler, and her eyes dim--their last light was turned on him she loved; and when sight was gone, she still felt his arms enfold her. The next moment they enfolded--nothing! “In the terrible spasms of masculine agony--the more intensely felt as they are more rarely indulged--the young widower dashed himself on the bed, which shook with his convulsive grief; and Elinor, losing all sense but that of a calamity so sudden and so terrible, echoed his deep and suffocating sobs, as if she whom they deplored had not been the only obstacle to her happiness. * * * * * * * *