Lord Sotheron was constant in his attentions, and spared no pains to soften and alleviate Maria’s sufferings. He had once truly loved her; and when he felt assured he was about to lose this devoted being, she rose before his imagination, beautiful, and brilliant, the cynosure of all hearts and eyes, as when he had first known her, and his conscience told him he had himself blasted all he had so passionately admired. One day Maria was much exhausted by a more than usually severe attack of palpitation, and they had moved her towards an open window. They were all anxiously attending upon her, and she gazed round upon the group with tenderness and thankfulness. “I am better now,” she said, “so do not look so much frightened, dear children. It is going off for this time. Still there is no use in our deceiving ourselves and each other. I have long felt pain and oppression, which I thought would one day prove fatal. But I bless a merciful Providence who has granted me time for repentance and for preparation, and now I bless that Providence who will soon release me from my life of penance. “I trust that the time allowed me has not been allowed me in vain. Each bitter pang that I have endured, I have considered as part of my atonement, and I have offered it up to offended Heaven. There is one pain I have been spared! one joy I have tasted! you have been all a mother’s heart could wish—continue as you are. Be good, my blessed children—be good, and trust to Providence for the rest. Walter, in virtue alone there is true happiness! Is it not so! Dearly as I have loved you, and how dearly even you yourself can scarcely know,—Heaven alone, who knows how I have wrestled with my love, can know—dearly, devotedly as I have loved you, not for one moment, even when you seemed to love me with affection equal to my own, have I known happiness—happiness—that is only for the guiltless.” “_Seemed_ to love you, Maria!” whispered Lord Sotheron in a half reproachful tone. “I did not mean to say that, dearest Walter. Thank you for your past affection, thank you for your present tenderness. Oh! it is all here, Walter! that love of many years, is all here, in this breaking, this bursting heart, but I hope sanctified by our long union. If it is sinful to feel it on the threshold of the grave, Heaven be merciful to me!” and she clasped her hands. “Pray for me, my children, now, and pray for me when I am gone. Your innocent prayers will win me mercy! Pray for me! pray for me!” and she sank back exhausted. The state of excitement into which her feelings had been worked, brought on a fresh attack of palpitation more severe than the former, which was followed by a fainting fit. From this time she spoke but little, and before the close of the following day, her spirit, we will hope her purified spirit, passed from its earthly tenement. END OF THE SECOND VOLUME. VOLUME THE THIRD. ELLEN WAREHAM.