"Is not that M. de Fraconville?" resumed Adeline, pointing to a gentleman who had just come in view, round the opposite corner. "Something must have taken your eyesight today, Adeline," exclaimed Rose, who was at the other window; "it's a head and half too tall for M. de Fraconville." "You say right," meekly sighed Adeline; "my sight is dim, and looking on the white snow has rendered it more so. Take me back again." It will be her last look at outdoor life. They wheeled her into the other room, and settled her comfortably on her chair, near the fire, her head on the pillows and her feet on a footstool. Rose followed, and took up a light work to read to her. "Not that," said Adeline, motioning away the volume in Rose's hands; "it is time I had done with such. There is ANOTHER Book there, Rose." In coming in from church last Sunday, I laid my Bible and Prayer-book down in Adeline's room, and forgot them. It was towards these she pointed. Rose took up the Bible. "Where shall I read?" she asked, sitting down. Adeline could not tell her. The one was almost as ignorant as the other. The Bible, to Adeline, has been a sealed book, and Rose never opens it but as a matter of form. Rose turned over its leaves in indecision. "So many chapters!" she whispered to me, pleadingly, "Tell me which to fix upon." "Take the Prayer-book," interrupted Adeline, "and read me your Service for the Burial of the Dead." Rose found the place at once, for she knew it was close to the Marriage Service, and began: "'I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.'" There she stopped, for the tears were falling, and she could not see the page; and, just then, Miss de Beaufoy came into the room, and saw what Rose was reading. For the first time, in our hearing, she interfered, beseeching Adeline to remember she was a Roman Catholic, and recommending that a priest should be sent for. "Dear Aunt Agnes," exclaimed Adeline, impressively, "when you shall be as near to death as I am, you will see the fallacy of these earthly differences,--how worse than useless they must appear in the sight of our universal Father, of our loving Saviour. There is but one heaven, and I believe it is of little moment which form of worship we pursue, so that we pray and strive earnestly in it to arrive there. I shall be none the worse for listening to the prayers from this English book: they are all truth and beauty, and they soothe me. The priests will come later." A bold avowal for a Roman Catholic, and Agnes de Beaufoy crossed herself as she left the room. Rose read the Burial Service to the end. And so, existence hanging as it were upon a thread, the days still struggle on. There will be no more extracts from this young lady's diary. And indeed but little more of anything; this portion of the history, like Adeline's life, draws near its close.