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The name of my unfortunate and murdered friend was an agitation

too great to be endured in my weak state; I shed tears.

"Alas! Yes, my father," replied I; "some destiny of the most

horrible kind hangs over me, and I must live to fulfil it, or

surely I should have died on the coffin of Henry."

We were not allowed to converse for any length of time, for the

precarious state of my health rendered every precaution necessary

that could ensure tranquillity. Mr. Kirwin came in and insisted

that my strength should not be exhausted by too much exertion.

But the appearance of my father was to me like that of my good

angel, and I gradually recovered my health.