absolutely necessary.

She then sent to request the ladies to visit her; she wished to avoid a
parade of grief--her sorrows were her own, and appeared to her not to
admit of increase or softening. She was right; the sight of them did not
affect her, or turn the stream of her sullen sorrow; the black wave
rolled along in the same course, it was equal to her where she cast her
eyes; all was impenetrable gloom.




CHAP. XVI.


Soon after the ladies left her, she received a message from Henry,
requesting, as she saw company, to be permitted to visit her: she
consented, and he entered immediately, with an unassured pace. She ran
eagerly up to him--saw the tear trembling in his eye, and his
countenance softened by the tenderest compassion; the hand which pressed
hers seemed that of a fellow-creature. She burst into tears; and, unable
to restrain them, she hid her face with both her hands; these tears
relieved her, (she had before had a difficulty in breathing,) and she
sat down by him more composed than she had appeared since Ann's death;
but her conversation was incoherent.

She called herself "a poor disconsolate creature!"--"Mine is a selfish
grief," she exclaimed--"Yet; Heaven is my witness, I do not wish her
back now she has reached those peaceful mansions, where the weary rest.
Her pure spirit is happy; but what a wretch am I!"