Here he was overcome, and could not for a few minutes maintain
sufficient calmness to proceed, and poor Alice was almost as deeply
affected as himself. At last he strove to go on.

"You know," he resumed, "the agreement I allude to. You were to be
sisters, and you were sisters. Well, my dear Alice, for her sake, as
well as for your own, and as she looked upon you in that affectionate
light, the contract between you, as far as it now can be done, shall be
maintained. Henceforth you are my daughter. I adopt you. All that
she was to have shall be yours, reverting, however, should you
die without-issue, to my nephew, Henry Woodward; and should he die
childless, to his brother, Charles Lindsay; and should he die without
offspring, then to my niece Maria. I have arranged it so, and have to
say that, except the hope of meeting my child in death, it is now the
only consolation left me. I am, I know, fulfilling her wishes; and, my
dear Alice, you will relieve my heart--my broken heart--by accepting
it."

"O, would to God," replied Alice, sobbing bitterly, "that I could give a
thousand times as much to have our beloved Agnes back again! I have now
no sister! Alas! alas! I have now no sister!"

"Ah, my child," he replied, "for now I will call you so, your grief,
though deep and poignant, will pass away in time, but mine will abide
with me whilst I stay here. That period, however, will not be long; the
prop of my existence, the source of my happiness, is gone; and I will
never know what happiness is until I rejoin her and her blessed mother.
Good-by, my daughter; I will have neither reply nor remonstrance, nor
will I be moved by any argument from this my resolution."