high-souled Hagar! would that I had suffered alone! would that I could have died to have saved her! You do not comprehend her grief, or my deep sympathy, mother—alas! you will understand it but too well by-and-bye. Oh! well, I went to her, sat beside her, took her hand—I felt that I was her brother—I pitied her, loved her, would have soothed her, caressed her as when she was a little girl; but with a haggard look and an adjuring gesture she repelled me, as she murmured, in a hollow, church-yard voice, ‘I have been ill—ill.’ ‘I know it, dearest Hagar; dearest sister, I know it all—everything—I am a fellow sufferer, but no matter for that; what is my grief to your great sorrow! Hagar, I am your friend—your brother for life and to death! I will do anything you wish me to do—I am at your command—I will even throw up my commission and come and live near you, if, by doing so, I can be of any use to you. Yes, Hagar, I will do that, even if I have to mend clocks for a living.’ She looked at me and faltered a reply; but, oh! the words fell from her ashen lips unnatural and unintelligible, like those from an automaton, and few as they were, they seemed to have exhausted the small remnant of her strength, for she sank back in her chair in a swoon. I flew to the bell and rung it violently, and Mrs. Collins came in—seeing the state of Hagar, she immediately summoned a female domestic, and bore her back to her chamber. I followed them up stairs. I could not, would not stay away. I followed them into her room—saw them lay her upon her bed—waited until they had recovered her—saw her open her eyes, and then, and not till then, I withdrew and left her to repose. She was worse the next morning—the agitation occasioned by our interview had caused a relapse—and, mother, that very next day, the day succeeding my arrival, while she lay at the point of death, _an execution_ was brought into the house, and everything swept off! all that splendid furniture, together with the valuable library, and rare collections of pictures, statuary, and virtue accumulated by the late General Raymond—all went! I repurchased the furniture of her suite of private apartments; but she shall not know that; she will naturally think, and I shall permit her to think, that they were spared by creditors—and, mother, if you come on here, take care that you do not undeceive her. It seems that for the last two years, Mr. Raymond Withers—curse him! has been living far above his income, and that as soon as his creditors knew him to have left the country, they came down upon his property. Hagar does not yet know the new misfortune that has fallen upon her, as she was lying insensible when the sheriff’s officer took the inventory of her bed-chamber, and I took the precaution that none of its furniture should be disturbed. Mother, come quickly to Hagar.