"Oh, why did I send for you!" said Laura, in a low tone, and speaking with difficulty; "I fear it is too much." "Don't be frightened, my Lady," said the nurse: "Miss Juliet is a little easier; she is dozing." In a few minutes Juliet moved and spoke, but so faintly, her voice could hardly be distinguished. In an instant Laura was on her knees beside her, and catching the imperfect sounds, replied in a voice which betrayed not the anguish of her soul, "Yes, my love, she is here--will you see her?" Then turning to Ellen, she motioned her to approach. Ellen rose, and went to the bed-side; she looked on Juliet, and saw that sweet angelic countenance, slightly flushed, and looking as composed as ever; and ignorant of the appearances of disease, fancied her better, and was, in some measure, comforted. Juliet faintly articulated a few words, expressive of the pleasure she felt in seeing Ellen, and would have said more, but the nurse, for the sake of all, interposed, and requested that Miss Juliet might not be allowed to speak much. With difficulty she held out her feeble emaciated arms to Ellen, who tenderly embraced her, and half dissolved in tears, retired to the window, whither she drew Miss Cecil. Still the wretched Laura shed no tear; and the deep grief, impressed on her fine countenance, was much more painful to the beholder than the loudest expressions of sorrow could have been. "Give sorrow vent: the grief which does not speak Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break!" "For heaven's sake, my dearest Laura," said Ellen, "endeavour to take comfort; surely she is better--she will recover!" Laura only shook her head; and the nurse approaching, said, "Indeed, Madam, Miss Cecil will kill herself; she has not had her clothes off these two nights, nor has the slightest refreshment passed her lips this day." "Oh! talk not to me of rest or food," cried Laura, "I can partake of neither." Ellen most tenderly urged her to take something; but pressing her hands upon her heart, she replied, "Oh no, oh no--I could not; indeed I could not. Go," she added, "my dear friend--go, this is no place for you; nothing but the request of ----; nothing but _her_ request should have induced me to send for you." "But now I _am_ here," said Ellen, "surely you will allow me to stay; I may be of use to you; of comfort to dear dear Juliet." In vain she urged. Laura sacrificed all selfish considerations, and insisted on her returning home, promising to send to her should Juliet wish to see her again; and St. Aubyn, anxious for her, now sent to request his wife would come: she therefore embraced her friend, and looking once more on the departing saint, who now again lay heavily dozing, she lifted up her hands and eyes to heaven, and, with another shower of tears, left the room. St. Aubyn was rejoiced to find her disposed to accompany him home, though she complained bitterly that Laura would not let her stay.