and Adéle wringing her hands, crying violently,and exclaiming at every breath, "Mon Dieu! mon Dieu! Dieu me pardonne! pauvre enfant! Ah, mon Dieu, que j'etois morte. God forgive me, poor child! would that I were dead!" Lucy gazed around her in grief and amazement. No one seemed to see her, till Ophelia, looking up from the apron in which she had buried her face, ran to her, sobbing, "Oh, Lucy! I and papa sent for you; he came home about an hour ago, and came right into the nursery to see Eugene, for ever since he got your letter—he got a letter from you, Lucy—he thought he never should see him again; and don't you think he found him going into a fit, and Adéle asleep, and the vial of laudanum standing there on the table! Only think! he has thrown up once, and the doctor says, if he can only be roused again, but, oh dear! oh dear! see how he lies in papa's arms." Lucy threw aside her cloak and bonnet, and went up to Mr. Hartell. "Pray, sir," she said, "let me speak to him."
"God bless you, Lucy, is it you? Oh, my boy, Lucy! he's going!"
"Eugene! darling Eugene!" cried Lucy, kissing his lips; "Eugene, don't you know me?" The voice penetrated to the little fellow's spirit. He opened his eyes; a faint ray of joy shot through his heart and eyes; he made a feeble effort to extend his hands. Lucy caught him in her arms, and throwing up the window, and setting wide open the door, she tossed him up and down in the draught of fresh air, repeating his name in her natural tone of playful tenderness. Every voice but hers was hushed till Ophelia exclaimed, "Father, he
