In a few days they arrived in the village--sending from the inn a servant, to prepare their mother for their approach. I gently intimated to her the visitants we might expect. The previous evening, a change had taken place, which indicated approaching dissolution; and her mind (not uncommon in similar cases) seemed, almost instantaneously, to have recovered a portion of its original strength. She sighed deeply, while her eyes, which were fixed wistfully on my face, were lighted with a bright, but transient, lustre. 'My dear Emma,' said she, 'this is a trying moment for us both. I shall soon close my eyes, for ever, upon all worldly cares.--Still cherish, in your pure and ingenuous mind, a friendship for my Augustus--the darling of my soul! He may, in future, stand in need of consolation. I had formed hopes--vain hopes!--in which you and he were equally concerned. In the happiness of this partially-favoured child--this idol of my affections--all mine was concentrated. He has disappointed me, and I have lost the desire of living--Yet, he has noble qualities!--Who, alas! is perfect? Summon your fortitude, collect your powers, my child, for this interview!' She sunk on her pillow--I answered her only with my tears. A servant entered--but spoke not--her look announced her tidings--It caught the eye of Mrs Harley-- 'Let them enter,' said she; and she raised herself, to receive them, and assumed an aspect of composure. I covered my face with my handkerchief--I heard the sound of footsteps approaching the bed--I heard the murmurs of filial sorrow--The voice of Augustus, in low and interrupted accents, struck upon my ear--it thrilled through my nerves--I shuddered, involuntarily--What a moment! My friend spoke a few words, in a faint tone. 'My children,' she added, 'repay to this dear girl,' laying her hand upon mine, 'the debt of kindness I owe her--she has smoothed the pillow of death--she is an orphan--she is tender and unfortunate.' I ventured to remove for a moment the handkerchief from my eyes--they met those of Augustus--he was kneeling by the bed-side--his countenance was wan, and every feature sunk in dejection; a shivering crept through my veins, and chilled my heart with a sensation of icy coldness--he removed his eyes, fixing them on his dying mother. 'My son,' she resumed, in still fainter accents, 'behold in Emma, your sister--_your friend!_--confide in her--she is worthy of your confidence!'--'Will you not love him, my child,'--(gazing upon me,)--'with a sisterly affection?' I hid my face upon the pillow of my friend--I threw my arms around her--'Your request is superfluous, my friend, my more than parent, _ah, how superfluous_!'