A SHOCK.

Cecelia passed the rest of the day in fanciful projects of beneficence;
she determined to wander with her romantic new ally whither-so-ever he
would lead her, and to spare neither fortune, time, nor trouble, in
seeking and relieving the distressed. Not all her attempted philosophy
had calmed her mind like this plan; in merely refusing indulgence to
grief, she had only locked it up in her heart, where eternally
struggling for vent, she was almost overpowered by restraining it; but
now her affliction had no longer her whole faculties to itself; the
hope of doing good, the pleasure of easing pain, the intention of
devoting her time to the service of the unhappy, once more delighted
her imagination,--that source of promissory enjoyment, which though
often obstructed, is never, in youth, exhausted.

She would not give Mrs Charlton the unnecessary pain of hearing the
letter with which she had been so, much affected, but she told her of
the visit of Albany, and pleased her with the account of their scheme.

At night, with less sadness than usual, she retired to rest. In her
sleep she bestowed riches, and poured plenty upon the land; she humbled
the oppressor, she exalted the oppressed; slaves were raised to
dignities, captives restored to liberty; beggars saw smiling abundance,
and wretchedness was banished the world. From a cloud in which she was
supported by angels, Cecilia beheld these wonders, and while enjoying
the glorious illusion, she was awakened by her maid, with news that Mrs
Charlton was dying!

She started up, and, undressed, was running to her apartment,--when the