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"I suppose that we shall have to proceed to business without my nephew, since he is not come," said Mr. Bergan, after a prolonged pause. "May I ask what is the object of this meeting?"äÙÞ£Ø"Rosa, see! Is not that a light in the old Hall?"¤Í»�¤¤¢¤Ç

Astra was seated on the bed, holding her mother in her arms, to afford her a grateful change of position. Cathie lay curled up at the invalid's feet, with her large eyes fixed on the rapt, hushed face,—the half-closed eyes and slightly parted lips of which suggested a soft sinking into that sweet slumber, which is yet not so much slumber as a happy dream. Diva knelt by the bedside, with her aunt's hand in hers, singing in tones that thrilled him through and through, much as he had learned in these days, of the marvellous beauty and pathos of her voice;—¤ê¦¥¥¥¥¸ê�¥¶¤¥Ú¶¥ññ¤äª"Uncle, there is great reason to believe—or, at least to suspect—that Doctor Remy is a—murderer,—the murderer of my brother Alec."¤Ä±¤à󥱤¤¤¥¥

Yet in no other way could it have operated so powerfully to awaken the instinct of kinship within her, to melt her reserve, to draw out her dormant sympathies,—in short, to call forth whatever was deepest, richest, and womanliest in her nature. And certainly, in no other way could it have brought so strong and subtle an influence to bear upon the sombre doubts and chill infidelities of her mind; setting over against her cool, speculative belief in a blind Chance or an inflexible Fate, Mrs. Lyte's calm trust in the goodness of God's providence, against the blighting, chilling, unbeauteous effects of suffering on her own heart, the gracious fruitage of patience, contentment, and love, ripening under its touch in Mrs. Lyte's, against her own dim outlook into an unknown future, her aunt's firm expectation of the eternal weight of glory. The contrast was too striking not to be noticed, its testimony in favor of faith over unbelief too strong to be ignored. Daily, as she watched by her aunt's bedside, questions that she had once settled, or laid aside as incapable of settlement, came up again, to be examined in new and diviner lights. Daily the good work which Bergan had been instrumental in beginning in her heart, went forward,—not like the work of doubt, tearing down what it could not rebuild, and taking away bread to give a stone,—but bringing order out of confusion, proportion out of inequality, solidity out of disintegration.¤¥Â©¼¤Ê�¥¥¥â¥¡¥¼Áñ�¤`楤ÛÌ¥½¥¿¥

�`¥ó®Õ¤¥Öð¸The next afternoon, he was on his way to Berganton, whither Doctor Trubie was shortly to follow him.¥¥¤È¥¥¥�¤ê¤¤¥Ìð¤´Ô¥

"Carice!" she cried, appalled, but not without an intuitive perception of the truth,—"Carice, my child! what is the matter?"¤¤Ç¾Ó¤�çÓ¥¤ÄÓNor was Astra any less ready to accept her kinswoman as a timely boon and blessing. It was not only an unspeakable relief to feel a part of her heavy burden of care lifted from her shoulders by hands so willing, so tender, and with so undoubted a right to the privilege; it was also a rare delight to have such thoroughly congenial companionship. As for Cathie, her heart was easily won,—all the more that she never seemed to quite rid herself of her first impression that the new-comer was celestial rather than human, and to be adored accordingly. In short, Diva soon found for herself so fit, definite, and essential a place in all these hearts and lives as to suggest the idea that it must have been prepared expressly, and kept waiting for her—she knew not how long. Nay, more,—she must have been prepared for it; carefully fitted, by many sad and stern circumstances, for this exchange of helpful influences, for her part in that solemn symphony of events which was rolling its profound harmonies through Mrs. Lyte's sick-chamber.©¹¥ò¥¬¥

Carice put her hand to her brow, and tried to think, but merely succeeded in bewildering herself with images of horror. That frightful word, murderer, continually sounded in her ears, to the effectual hindrance of anything like connected thought. Only one idea presented itself to her confused brain with even tolerable distinctness,—Bergan was near, Bergan was in possession of knowledge that might yet relieve her, to some extent, from a burden too heavy to be borne,—a burden which she ought never to have consented to take upon herself, nor ever would have done, had she not first been bound fast with a torpor that benumbed both feeling and will. Still, having so consented, she would have tried, but for Rosa's terrible revelation, to endure it patiently. Now, it seemed to her, this was no longer possible.̤¤Í¥¤é¤Ü¤Ã½The change in Doctor Trubie's face was startling. "This!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling with excitement, "who did you say wrote this?"Ýܤ�¥ï¥¥

�¥¥¤Ç¶¤�c¤¤Coralie's eyes fell on that hand, which was carefully bandaged from wrist to knuckles; and the unconquerable shyness which had seized her, on Bergan's appearance, was instantly dissipated.å㥥¤ç¥î

He lifted his hat as he rode through the gate; very soon a turn of the road hid him from sight. Coralie stood looking somewhat wistfully at the point where he had disappeared.¥¥¥Û±Ï�º¥ò¤ò¥¥­¤No, plainly he would not, for he was physically incapable of speech. He was shivering as with an ague fit, his knees knocked together, his lips trembled convulsively, but no articulate sound came forth. In another moment, he fell forward heavily on the rail that divided the witness-stand from the lawyers' table.¥Ç¥Ç¥¤

"Nevertheless," persisted Doctor Gerrish, "it was not that poison which killed him."Ӣ੥�¥¤Õó×¥ÌÕ§¥¥�̤¤¤´¹

�¤¤Á"Very true," replied Doctor Remy; "and I distrust you. Open that door at once, and let me see what or whom it is, that you are so anxious to conceal."¼Ñë£ã¦�¥éȤ¥¤¤¤dò