"Mr. Markham," said the latter, in a tone of profound anguish, "I am come to ask you a favour—and you will not refuse the last request of a dying girl." "My dear sir—what do you mean?" exclaimed Richard. "Surely your daughter——" "Mary-Anne will not long remain in this world of trouble," interrupted Mr. Gregory, solemnly. "Hers will soon be the common lot of mortals—perhaps to-day, perhaps to-morrow! She must die soon—God will change her countenance and take her unto himself. Oh! where shall I find consolation?" "Consolation is to be found in the conviction that the earth is no abiding place," answered Markham; "and that there is a world beyond." "Yes, truly," said the afflicted father. "We stand upon the border of an ocean _which has but one shore_, and whose heavings beyond are infinite and eternal." There was a pause, during which Mr. Gregory was wrapped up in painful reflections. "Come," said he, at length breaking that solemn silence, and taking Richard's hand; "you will not refuse to go with me to the death-chamber of my daughter? You will not offend against the delicacy of that devotion which you owe to _another_; for _she_ herself is also there." Richard gazed at Mr. Gregory in astonishment as he uttered these words. "Yes, my young friend," continued the wretched father; "within the last four and twenty hours, Mary-Anne and I have had many explanations. By a strange coincidence, it was at the abode of Count Alteroni that Mary-Anne passed a few days at the commencement of last month, and to which visit I alluded the last time I saw you, but without particularising names. I did not then know that you were even acquainted with the Alteroni family—much less could I suspect that your affections were fixed upon the Lady Isabella." "And your daughter and Isabella are acquainted?" ejaculated Markham, more and more surprised at what he heard. "They are friends—and at this moment the Lady Isabella is by the bed-side of Mary-Anne. It seems that the young maidens made confidants of each other, during my daughter's visit to the Count's mansion; and they then discovered that they both loved the same individual." "How strange that they should have thus met!" cried Markham. "Then was it," continued Mr. Gregory, "that my daughter learnt how hopeless was her own passion! Oh! I need not wonder if she returned home heart-broken and dying! But your Isabella, Richard, is an angel of goodness, virtue, and beauty!" "She is worthy of the loftiest destinies!" said Markham enthusiastically.