Look, reader, once more with the eye and heart of sympathy, at a melancholy page in the book of human life-a sad one, indeed, and almost the last that will be opened by one who has already laid several before you, and is about to take his departure!

It was pouring with rain one Wednesday, in the month of March 18-, about twelve o'clock, and had been raining violently the whole morning. Only one patient had called upon me up to the hour just mentioned for how could invalids stir out in such weather? The wind was cold and bitter-the aspect of things without, in short, most melancholy and cheerless. "There are one or two poor souls," thought I, with a sigh, as I stepped from the desk at which I had been occupied for more than

VOL. XL. NO. CCXLIX.

an hour writing, and stood looking over the blinds into the deserted and almost deluged street-" there are one or two poor souls that would certainly have been here this morning, according to appointment, but for this unfriendly weather. Their cases are somewhat critical-one of them especially-and yet they are not such as to warrant my apprehending the worst. I wish, by the way, I had thought of asking their addresses!-Ah-for the future I will make a point of taking down the residence of such as I may suspect to be in very humble or embarrassed circumstances. One can then, if necessary, call upon such persons -on such a day as this-at their own houses. There's that poor man, for instance, the bricklayer-he cannot leave his work except at breakfast time-I wonder how his poor child comes on! Poor fellow, how

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anxious he looked yesterday, when he asked me what I thought of his child! And his wife bed-ridden! Really I'd make a point of calling, if I knew where he lived! He can't afford a coach-that's out of the question. Well-it can't be helped, however!" With this exclamation, half uttered, I looked at my watch, rung the bell, and ordered the carriage to be at the door in a quarter of an hour. I was sealing one of the letters I had been writing, when I heard a knock at the street door, and in a few moments my servant showed a lady into the room. She was apparently about four or fiveand-twenty; neatly but very plainly dressed; her features, despite an air of languor, as if from recent indisposition, without being strictly handsome, had a pleasing expression of frankness and spirit,-and her address was easy and elegant. She was, however, evidently flurried. She "hoped she should not keep me at home-she could easily call again". I begged her to be seated; and, in a quiet tone-at the same time proceeding with what I was engaged upon, that she might have a moment's interval in which to recover her self-possession-made some observations about the weather.

"It is still raining hard, I perceive," said I; "did you come on foot? Bless me, madam, why you seem wet through! Pray come nearer the fire"-stirring it up into a cheer-. ful blaze-" shall I offer you a glass of wine, or wine and water? You look very chilly”—

“No, thank you, sir; I am rather wet, certainly, but I am accustomed to rain-I will, however, sit closer to the fire, if you please, and tell you in a few words my errand. I shall not detain you long, sir," she continued, in a tone considerably more assured; "the fact is, I have received a letter this morning from a friend of mine in the country, a young lady, who is an invalid, and has written to request I would call immediately upon some experienced physician, and obtain, as far as can be, his real opinion upon her casefor she fancies, poor girl! that they are concealing what is really the matter with her!"

"Well! she must have stated her

case remarkably well, ma'am," said I with a smile, " to enable me to give any thing like a reasonable guess at her state without seeing her"

"Oh-but I may be able to answer many of your questions, sir, for I am very well acquainted with her situation, and was a good deal with her, not long ago."

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"Ah-that's well. Then will you be so kind," giving a monitory glance at my watch, as to say what you know of her case? The fact is, I've ordered the carriage to be here in about a quarter of an hour's time, and have a long day's work before me!"

"She is let me see, sir-I should say, about six years older than myself; that is, she is near thirty, or thereabouts. I should not think she was ever particularly strong. She's seen-poor thing!-a good deal of trouble lately." She sighed.

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"Oh-I see, I understand! little disappointment-there's the seat of the mischief, I suppose?" I interrupted, smiling, and placing my hand over my heart. "Isn't this really, now, the whole secret?"

"Why-the fact is-certainly, I believe-yes, I may say that love has had a good deal to do with her present illness-for it is really illness! She has been"- she paused, hesitated, and-as I fancied-coloured slightly-" crossed in love-yes! She was to have been-I mean-that is, she ought to have been married last autumn, but for this sad affair"- I bowed, looking again at my watch, and she went on more quickly to describe her friend as being naturally rather delicate-that this " disappointment" had occasioned her a great deal of annoyance and agitation-that it had left her now in a very low nervous way

and, in short, her friend suspected herself to be falling into a decline. That about two months ago she had had the misfortune to be run over by a chaise, the pole of which struck her on the right chest, and the horses' hoofs also trampled upon her, but no ribs were broken".

"Ah, this is the most serious part of the story, ma'am-this looks like real illness! Pray, proceed, ma'am. I suppose your friend after this com

plained of much pain about the chest-is it so? Was there any spitting of blood?"

"Yes, a little-no-I mean-let me see". here she took out of her pocket a letter, and unfolding it, cast her eye over it for a moment or two, as if to refresh her memory by looking at her friend's statement.

"May I be allowed, ma'am, to look at the letter in which your friend describes her case?" I enquired, holding out my hand.

"There are some private matters contained in it, sir," she replied quickly; "the fact is, there was some blood-spitting at the time, which I believe has not yet quite ceased."

"And does she complain of pain

in the chest?"

"Yes, at times very troublesome, she says."

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Pray, how long has she had it? -I mean, had she it before the accident you spoke of?"

"I first noticed it-let me see-ah, about a year after she was married." "After she was married!" I echoed, darting a keen glance at her. She coloured violently, and stammered confusedly

"No, no, sir-I meant about a year after the time when she expected to have been married."

There was something not a little curious and puzzling in all this. "Can you tell me, ma'am, what sort of a cough it is?" I enquired, shifting my chair, so that I might obtain a distincter view of her features. She perceived what I was about, I think-for she seemed to change colour a little, and to be on the verge of shedding tears. I repeated my question. She said that the cough was at first very slight; so slight that her friend had thought nothing of it, but at length it became a dry and painful one. She began to turn

very pale. A suspicion of the real state of the case flashed across my mind.

"Now, tell me, ma'am, candidly -confess! Are not you speaking of yourself? You really look ill!"

She trembled, but assured me emphatically that I was mistaken. She appeared about to put some question to me, when her voice failed her, and her eyes, wandering to the window, filled with tears.

Forgive me, sir! I am so anxious about my friend,"-she sobbed "she is a dear, kind, good "her agitation increased. "Calm - pray, calm yourself, ma'am-do not distress yourself unnecessarily! You must not let your friendly sympathies overcome you in this way, or you will be unable to serve your friend as you wish-as she has desired!"

I handed to her a bottle of smelling salts, and after pausing for a few moments, her agitation subsided.

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"Well," she began again, tremulously, "what do you think of her case, sir? You may tell me candidly, sir," she was evidently making violent struggles to conceal her emotions" for I assure you I will never make an improper use of what you may say-indeed I will not!What do you really think of her case?"

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Why-if all that you have said be correct, I own I fear it is a bad case-certainly a bad one," I replied, looking at her scrutinizingly. "You have mentioned some symptoms that are very unfavourable."

"Do you think-her case hopeless, sir?" she enquired in a feeble tone, and looking at me with sorrowful intensity.

"Why, that is a very difficult question to answer-in her absence. One ought to see her-to hear her tell her own story-to ask a thousand little questions. I suppose, by the way, that she is under the care of a regular professional man?"

"Yes, I believe so-no, I am not sure; she has been, I believe."

I felt satisfied that she was speaking of herself. I paused, scarce knowing what to say. "Are her circumstances easy? Could she go to a warmer climate in the spring, or early part of the summer? I really

think that change of scene would do her greater good than any thing I could prescribe for her."

She sighed. "It might be so; but -I know it could not be done. Circumstances, I believe"

"Is she living with her family? Could not they

"Oh no, there's no hope there, sir!" she replied with sudden impetuosity. "No, no; they would see both of us perish before they would lift a finger to save us," she added with increasing vehemence of tone and manner. "So now it's all outmy poor, poor husband!" She fell into violent hysterics. The mystery was now dispelled-it was her husband's case that she had been all the while enquiring about. I saw it all! Poor soul, to gain my candid, my real opinion, she had devised an artifice to the execution of which she was unequal; over estimating her own strength, or rather not calculating upon the severe tests she would have to encounter.

Ringing the bell, I summoned a female servant, who, with my wife (she had heard the violent cries of my patient), instantly made her appearance, and paid all necessary attentions to the mysterious sufferer, as surely I might call her. The letter from which-in order to aid her little artifice-she had affected to read, had fallen upon the floor. It was merely a blank sheet of paper, folded in the shape of a letter, and directed, in a lady's hand-writing, to "Mrs Elliot, No. 5, — street." This I put into my pocket book. She had also, in falling, dropped a small piece of paper, evidently containing my intended fee, neatly folded up. This I slipped into the reticule which lay beside her.

From what scene of wretchedness had this unhappy creature come to me?

The zealous services of my wife and her maid presently restored my patient, at least to consciousness, and her first look was one of gratitude for their assistance. She then attempted, but in vain, to speak, and her tears flowed fast. "Indeed, indeed, sir, I am no impostor and yet I own I have deceived you! but pity me! Have mercy on a being quite forsaken and

broken-hearted! I meant to pay you, sir, all the while. I only wished to get your true opinion about my unhappy husband. Oh how very, very, very wretched I am! What is to become of us! So, my poor husband!-there's no hope! Oh that I had been content with ignorance of your fate!" She sobbed bitterly, and my worthy little wife exhibited so much firmness and presence of mind, as she stood beside her suffering sister, that I found it necessary gently to remove her from the room. What a melancholy picture of grief was before me in Mrs Elliott, if that were her name. Her expressive features were flushed, and bedewed with weeping; her eyes swollen, and her dark hair, partially dishevelled, gave a wildness to her countenance, which added to the effect of her incoherent exclamations. "I do I do thank you, sir, for your candour. I feel that you have told me the truth! But what is to become of us? My most dreadful fears are confirmed! But I ought to have been home before this, and am only keeping you"

"Not at all, ma'am-pray don't""But my husband, sir, is ill-and there is no one to keep the child but him. I ought to have been back long ago!' She rose feebly from her chair, hastily re-adjusted her hair, and replaced her bonnet, preparing to go. She seemed to miss something, and looked about the floor, obviously embarrassed at not discovering the object of her search.

"It is in your reticule, ma'am," I whispered-" and, unless you would affront and wound me, there let it remain. I know what you have been looking for-hush! do not think of it again. My carriage is at the door,-shall I take you as far as

street? I am driving past

No, sir, I thank you; but-not for the world! My husband has no idea that I have been here; he thinks I have been only to the druggist. I would not have him know of this visit on any account. He would instantly suspect all." She grew again excited. Oh what a wretch I am! How long must I play the hypocrite! I must look happy, and say that I