village. She hesitated whether or not to show Ethelind the letters;
but she well knew her disposition and that although she highly
disapproved her conduct, still she would feel for her, and she needed
consolation; accordingly, calling her into her bed room, she put both
epistles into the hand of her friend, begging her to try and read them
through before the carriage came that was to take her away. Ethelind
was little less astonished than Beatrice had been, and truly did she
feel for her mortification. Many and bitter were the tears she shed on
reading Mr. Barclay's letter, for she well knew how strongly he must
have felt. Most thankful, too, was she that, by striving to overcome
her own attachment she had spared herself from having it even
suspected. Without a remark she returned the letters to Beatrice, who
could only beg to hear from her, and she promised to write, when the
post chaise drove up, and after affectionately embracing Mrs.
Fortescue and Ethelind, she was soon out of sight.

Mrs. Fortescue was, for some days, very poorly, and at length took to
her bed. Mr. Barclay was daily in attendance, affording her all the
religious consolation in his power, but he saw, although resigned,
there was something on her mind; and was not mistaken. She felt her
earthly race was well nigh run, and she was anxious as to Ethelind's
future fate. She knew God had said, "leave thy fatherless children to
me," and she felt she could do so, and she knew also, that it was
written, "commit thy way unto the Lord, and he shall bring it to
pass;" he had said, and would he not surely do it? She was one on whom
sorrow had done a blessed work.

Mr. Barclay calling one morning, found Ethelind out. It was an
opportunity he had long desired, and having read and prayed with Mrs.
F., he told her he feared some anxiety was still pressing on her mind.