Amabel did, indeed, look like a body from which the breath had departed, as we entered the room. She smiled faintly as her father kissed her, but did not try to speak. I gave her a little wine and she opened her eyes and fixed them on Sir Julius with a look which must have gone to his heart, it was so full of love and of sorrow. "Daughter, don't you know me?" said he, almost choked with grief, yet striving to command himself. "Speak to me, my love! Do you not know me?" She made a faint sign of assent, and pressed his hand, but she could not speak. "Oh, my child, my dear dutiful child, whom I have left to be murdered!" exclaimed the poor man, now really cut to the heart. "Only live and you shall never be troubled about this matter again." She smiled again, and made an effort to speak, but in vain. Her eyes closed, and it seemed as though every faint breath must be the last. As we stood round her, sounds below announced the arrival of another guest. "The doctor from Newcastle, but I doubt he comes too late," whispered the old lady. She left the room as she spoke. In a minute a man's hasty foot was heard on the stairs. Amabel opened her eyes and looked eagerly toward the door. "He has come!" she whispered. "Thank God." The door opened and Mr. Cheriton entered in his riding gear, just as he had dismounted, and stained with travel. He went straight to the bed, without giving so much as a look at any one of us, and took Amabel in his arms. "My love, my precious one. Amabel, you must live for me! No one shall part us, more." "No, Amabel, no one shall part you more!" said Sir Julius, speaking now with real dignity and feeling. "I have been cruel, and I have been misled by others, but my eyes are opened. Will you not try to live for your father and for the husband of your choice?" "I will try!" said Amabel, speaking more cheerily than she had done for several days. The old lady made a sign, and we stole out of the room and left the lovers together. "Aweel, Lucy Corbet, what think you of my doctor from Newcastle?" asked the old lady when we were in her parlor once more. "Has he not been worth more than all the bitters and bark for our patient?" "Then you sent for Mr. Cheriton!" said Sir Julius, rather dubiously. "I suppose, nephew, I can invite what guests I please to my own house!" answered the old lady, drawing herself up. "Of course, of course, aunt, you have done the best thing possible, and just what I should have proposed, had I been here!" said Sir Julius. "I am very much obliged to you." "It's a pity you had not thought as much before matters came to this pass!" muttered the old lady, who was rather apt to think aloud. "But, however, all's well that ends well, only remember, nephew, that you have given your consent to the wedding of these young ones, and cannot in honor withdraw a second time."