toward him; but Mrs. Melmoth now made use of a tone whose peculiar
shrillness, as long experience had taught her husband, augured a mood of
mind not to be trifled with.

"On my word, doctor," she exclaimed, "this is most unfeeling and
unchristian conduct! Here am I endeavoring to inform you of the death of
an old friend, and you continue as deaf as a post."

Dr. Melmoth, who had heard the sound, without receiving the sense, of
these words, now laid aside the letter in despair, and submissively
requested to be informed of her pleasure.

"There, read for yourself," she replied, handing him the paper, and
pointing to the passage containing the important intelligence,--"read, and
then finish your letter, if you have a mind."

He took the paper, unable to conjecture how the dame could be so much
interested in any part of its contents; but, before he had read many
words, he grew pale as death. "Good Heavens! what is this?" he exclaimed.
He then read on, "being the vessel wherein that eminent son of New
England, John Langton, Esq., had taken passage for his native country,
after an absence of many years."

"Our poor Ellen, his orphan child!" said Dr. Melmoth, dropping the paper.
"How shall we break the intelligence to her? Alas! her share of the
affliction causes me to forget my own."

"It is a heavy misfortune, doubtless; and Ellen will grieve as a daughter
should," replied Mrs. Melmoth, speaking with the good sense of which she
had a competent share. "But she has never known her father; and her sorrow