All the lessons of fortitude and patience, the early friends of Louisa had instilled into her mind, were insufficient to support the afflicting intelligence she obtained on gaining the apartment occupied by the domestics./ ‘Dear Miss!’ exclaimed the venerable old housekeeper, (starting from her chair, and advancing to embrace the beloved adopted child of her lamented master,) ‘at what a melancholy time you have returned; had you come a few hours sooner, you would have seen him alive, but, alas! it is all over: the best of men is gone, and these aged eyes shall never again see any thing like comfort!’

‘Who is gone? what do you speak of?’ cried Louisa in breathless agitation, and gazing wildly on the countenance of the weeping matron: ‘say not it is my father, my friend, my beloved protector! Oh! do not kill me by such information! You could not have been so cruel as to let him lay ill and die, without having sent to tell me of his danger!’

‘We did send an express off this morning,’ sobbed Margaret, ‘but it was too late: a few hours after the man's departure, my dear master was seized with a/ fit which carried him off without even a sigh. sent for: and, even then, was afraid of alarming you unnecessarily, as he said he thought it likely he should linger for some months.’