There was a charm in her half blush, her smiling bow, and the timid grace with which she received me, which made me feel that, with all the faults of the past, there was a great degree of worth and sincerity in Agnes Auriol still, and that she merited a very different fate in life; but, anxious to keep my appointment at the park, I at once handed her the porte-monnaie containing the money, and without accepting the chair proffered to me by Mrs. Goldsworthy, or even laying aside my hat, I said— "Miss Auriol, I have come in great haste, and am required elsewhere, almost at this moment. There you will find what you require for your purpose and immediate necessities." "Captain Norcliff, this kindness is too much—too much. Nurse Goldsworthy told me that you had promised this gift; but I—I know not if I should accept—if I dare accept it from you——" Tears choked her utterance, and then came on a paroxysm of her hard, dry, and racking cough. I placed a hand caressingly on her head, and advised her to be careful of her health, for that terrible cough——"Is all the hope I have now of ultimate relief," said she, looking up, with her dark eyes swimming in tears, and with a sublime brightness in them. "My dear mamma died of consumption, and with just such a cough; so did all my little brothers and sisters; and the presentiment is strong within me that I shall join them ere long—hence my wish, to die near the place where they lie." "You must not talk in this mournful way, Miss Auriol—you are too beautiful and too young to court such an early fate," said I. "Yet my little golden-haired brother, for whom I toiled and starved myself amid the vast and selfish wilderness of London, died earlier. Oh, Captain Norcliff, I would that he and I had passed away together, and now one grave might have held us; but then I had Berkeley to live for—he had not as yet deceived me. Love gave me hope, and I had my father’s fair name to redeem. I shall die soon—I know and feel it. Consumption was my only inheritance, and the agony of mind I have so long endured, since my days of toil and sin, has but served to encourage and develop that terrible disease." As she said this, her teeth chattered, as if with cold, and I turned her chair nearer to the scanty fire that burned in the little grate. "And this money, which you, sir, so kindly give me; I know not, as I said before, whether I should accept it—indeed, I should not——" "Nay, don’t offend me by a refusal," said I, taking her cold and slender fingers in mine, and closing them over the packet of notes. "But, sir—sir," she urged plaintively, "even if I am spared to live a few years, I shall never be able to return it." "Heed not that, Miss Auriol—you may outlive me; the end of this month will see me far away from Britain." She gazed at me earnestly and wistfully, and said—