"She was present when my daughter poured forth her soul into my bosom," resumed Mr. Gregory; "and Mary-Anne was guilty of no breach of confidence in revealing to me the love which existed between the Signora and yourself. And Isabella, with the most becoming modesty, confirmed the truth of Mary-Anne's recital. But your secret, Mr. Markham, remains locked up in my breast. You are too honourable and the Lady Isabella is too pure-minded to act in opposition to the will of her father: but God grant that events may prove favourable to you, and that you may be happily united!" Richard pressed the hand of his respected friend in token of gratitude for this kind wish. "And now you cannot hesitate to take a last farewell of my daughter," said Mr. Gregory; "for all danger of contagion from her malady has passed." Markham instantly prepared himself to accompany the unhappy parent. Few were the words that passed between them as they proceeded to the dwelling which was the abode of sorrow. On their arrival Markham was shown into the drawing-room for a short time; and then the nurse came to introduce him into the sick-chamber. The room was nearly dark; the curtains of the bed were close drawn; and thus the dying girl was completely concealed from our hero. But near the foot of the bed was standing a beauteous form, whose symmetrical shape Markham could not fail to recognise. Isabella extended her hand towards him: he pressed it in silence to his lips. Mary-Anne had heard his footsteps; and she also gave him her hand between the folds of the curtains. "Sit down by the bed-side, Richard," whispered Isabella: "our poor friend is anxious to speak to you." And Isabella wept—and Richard also wept; for those noble-minded beings could not know, without the liveliest emotion, that one so sweet, so innocent, and so youthful, was stretched upon the bed from which she was destined never to rise again. Markham seated himself by the side of the bed; and Isabella was about to withdraw. "Stay with us, my dear friend," said Mary-Anne, in a plaintive but silver tone of voice, which touched a chord of sympathy that vibrated to their very souls. Alas! that dulcet voice could not move the tuneless ear of Death! Isabella obeyed her friend's wish in silence.