"He comes but a moment in, Though her eye lightens, Though the hectic flush Feverishly heightens. He stays but a moment near, While that flush fadeth; Though disappointment's tear Her dim eye shadeth. "He goes from her chamber, straight Into life's jostle: He meets, at the very gate, Business and bustle. He thinks not of her, within, Silently sighing; He forgets, in that noisy din, That she is dying." "There is another verse," I called out, for Rose had ceased. "I know, there is," she said, "but I cannot recollect it. Only its purport!" "Try, try," exclaimed Adeline; "sing it all." Rose looked round, astonished at the anxious tone, as was I. What was the matter with her?--she who never took interest in anything. "Mary Carr," said Rose, "do you recollect the last verse?" "Not a word of it." Rose struck the notes of the chant upon the piano, murmuring some words to herself, and stopping now and then. Presently she burst out, something after the manner of an improvisatrice-- "And when the last scene's o'er, And cold, cold her cheek, His mind's then all despair, And his heart like to break. But, a few months on,-- His constancy to prove-- He forgets her who is gone, And seeks another love." "They are not exactly the original words," said Rose, "but they will do." "They will do, they will do," murmured Adeline, falling back on the sofa. "Sing it all again, Rose." And every evening since has this song been sung two or three times to please her. What is it she sees in it? 23_rd_.--I fear the day of life is about to close for Adeline. All the ominous symptoms of the disease have returned: pain oppresses her continually, and now she experiences a difficulty in breathing. Ah, Mr. St. John, if you were to come now and comfort her with all your love, as of yore, you could not restore her to health, or prolong her life by one single day. How strange it is we never hear of him! Is he in London?--is he at Castle Wafer?--is he abroad?--where is he?