paired immediately from it to their convent, and Madeline and the servants returned to the castle. Agatha cried bitterly all the way back; " 'twas a grievous thing (she said to Madeline) to see the death of one's best, one's only friend; little did I imagine (she said) that I should ever have beheld the funeral of my lady—I who, when she was a nice prattling little girl, have often and often carried her about in my arms."
The moment Madeline re-entered the castle, she retired to her chamber, to give vent to that grief, which by being so long suppressed, had almost swelled her heart to bursting. When somewhat relieved by the tears she shed, she knelt down and implored heaven to strengthen her fortitude, that she might be enabled, not only to submit with patience to its divine will, but to pay proper attentions to the daughter of her lamented friend. "Regard not! (she cried with fervour) Oh, regard not! thou, from whom misery and
