“O, should he die,” she murmured in the softest tone—“O, should he die without ever loving me!—die, without knowing how much—how fondly I loved him! And, O,” she added, in a whisper, while an expression of deep solemnity settled on her features—“O, should he die without ever loving the blessed Saviour!—that would be the most dreadful of all!” Presently a noise in the street disturbed her, and she opened her eyes. She did not see her husband, as she had turned her face a little on the other side, and calling the nurse, she said— “Do beg them to make less noise; they will kill my dear husband—I know just how it makes his poor head feel,” and she clasped her own with her hands. Mr. Westbury's feelings were much moved, and his debility was such he could with difficulty restrain them. He found he must return to his own chamber, and taking his wife's hand, he said— “I hope to be able to come and see you now, every day, my dear Julia.” “O, do,” she said—“and always call me Julia, will you?—it sounds so kindly!” Scenes similar to this were constantly recurring for the next ten days. Mr. Westbury continued to gain strength, though his recovery was somewhat retarded by his visits to Julia's chamber, while she was gradually sinking under the violence of her disease. The hopes, however, which her physician gave of her recovery, were not delusive. Within three weeks of the time of her seizure, a crisis took place, and the next day she was pronounced out of danger. Soon after this, Mr. Westbury was able to attend a little to business, but all the time he was in the house, was spent in Julia's chamber. One day, after she had so far recovered her strength as to be able to sit up for an hour or two at a time, he chanced to be left alone with her. “My dear Julia,” said he, as he took her emaciated hand, and folded it between his own—“I can never express my gratitude to you for your kind attentions to an unworthy husband; nor my thankfulness to heaven that your precious life did not fall a sacrifice to your efforts to save mine. I hope to prove by my future conduct, that I have learned to appreciate your value.” He spoke in the softest tones of love, while his eyes were humid with tears. “Do you, then, love me?” said Julia. “Love you!—yes, most tenderly—with my whole heart,” said Westbury; “more than any thing—more than every thing else on earth!” Julia leaned her head on his shoulder, and burst into tears. “Why do you weep, Julia?” said Westbury. “O, I am so happy!” said Julia. “There wants but one thing to make my cup of blessedness quite full.” “And what is that, dearest?” “That you should give your first—your best affections where alone they are deserved—to your Creator.”