my rest, by a visit from the person who
had upon the former occasion acted as
my guide; he had come to summon me to
the death-bed of her whom I had then
attended. With all celerity I made my
preparations, and, not without considerable
difficulty and some danger, we made a
rapid night-ride to the Lodge, a distance
of five miles at least. We arrived safely,
and in a very short time--but too late.

I stood by the bed upon which lay the
once beautiful form of Ellen Heathcote.
The brief but sorrowful trial was past--
the desolate mourner was gone to that
land where the pangs of grief, the tumults
of passion, regrets and cold neglect, are
felt no more. I leant over the lifeless face,
and scanned the beautiful features which,
living, had wrought such magic on all that
looked upon them. They were, indeed,
much wasted; but it was impossible for
the fingers of death or of decay altogether
to obliterate the traces of that exquisite
beauty which had so distinguished her.
As I gazed on this most sad and striking
spectacle, remembrances thronged fast upon
my mind, and tear after tear fell upon the
cold form that slept tranquilly and for ever.