At some future day I will show you where they have laid her. As for the unhappy man who met his death so suddenly—the coroner’s jury sat upon his case before his remains were permitted to be removed from the Isle. The body was then conveyed to Hemlock Hollow for burial. Old Mr. Hardcastle has not been able to leave his bed since the shock of his son’s sudden death threw him upon it. It is supposed that he cannot recover.” This Miss Seabright added with the purpose of partially diverting the mind of her guest from dwelling too intently upon the circumstances of his mother’s death. At the close of her recital Dr. Hutton remained silent for a few minutes, and then, taking and pressing her hand, he thanked her, with much emotion, for the care she had bestowed upon his mother. Miss Seabright rang for night-lamps, and when they were brought directed the servant to attend Dr. Hutton’s leisure, and when he felt inclined to retire to show him to his chamber. Then bidding her guest good-night, she left the room. The next morning Dr. Hutton came down very early and found Miss Seabright already in the drawing room. She advanced to meet him, holding out her hand. After the usual courteous inquiries about health, etc., Dr. Hutton said: “Miss Seabright, I scarcely know how to pardon myself for my forgetfulness of an aged and worthy relative last evening; but pray tell me now, how is my old aunt?” “Miss Joe! oh, very well, indeed. The only mark of infirmity I can perceive in her is her wish to go to bed earlier now than heretofore. She had retired before you arrived last night, and I would not have her disturbed. She is in the breakfast room superintending breakfast. She knows that you are here, but does not know that you have risen. Shall I send for her?” “If you please, Miss Seabright. I have not seen my aunt for two years. I have generally made it a point to come and see her every year or two since I first left her, and should have visited her this spring even, had not your letter summoned me now. Ah! here she comes.” Miss Joe came in smiling and weeping, and drying her eyes, and wiping her spectacles with her check apron, and as soon as she saw her nephew she ran to him and fell in his arms, laughing and crying and talking all at once, and not regaining self-possession until she became alarmed for the propriety of her cap and kerchief, when she extricated herself, smoothing down her apron and exclaiming: “There, Hugh! There, Neffy! You’re not a baby now; don’t tumble my cap and my handkerchief—there’s no sense in it;” though, dear old soul, the fault lay all the while in her own fondling—not Hugh’s. “There, come to breakfast now. It is all on the table waiting, and will get cold.” Dr. Hutton offered his arm to Miss Seabright, and they went in to breakfast.