Ay, here were met a strange party; a stranger,
for its size, methinks never yet met on earth, to
mingle their hearts together in one grief.

Just think! Of him who sat there with his
face hidden in his hands, and his frame shuddering,
all the others were the victims.

Yet the lady, whose husband he had robbed
and driven mad, pitied and sympathised with him,
and he saw it; the lady, whom he had insulted at
the altar and blighted her young heart and life,
pitied and sympathised with him; the poor old
doctor pitied and sympathised, and was more like
an anxious father than a physician.

Even Jane was one of his victims; for she fell
by the hand of a man he had dishonestly ruined
and driven out of his senses.

Thinking of all he had done, and this the end
of it, he was at once crushed and melted.

He saw with awe that a mightier hand than
man's was upon him; it had tossed him and his
daughter into the house and the arms of the injured
Dodds, in defiance of all human calculation;
and he felt himself a straw in that hand: so
he was, and the great globe itself. Oh if Jane
should die! the one creature he loved, the one
creature, bereaved of whom he could get no joy
even from riches.

What would he not give to recal the past,
since all his schemes had but ended in this.
Thus stricken by terror of the divine wrath, and
touched by the goodness and kindness of those
he had cruelly wronged, all the man was broken
with remorse. Then he vowed to undo his own
work as far as possible: he would do anything,
everything, if Heaven would spare him his child.

Now it did so happen that these resolves,
earnest and sincere but somewhat vague, were
soon put to the test; and, as often occurs,
what he was called on to do first was that which,
he would rather have done last. Thus it was:
about five o'clock in the afternoon Jane Hardie
opened her eyes and looked about her.

It was a moment of intense anxiety. They all
made signals, but held their breath. She smiled
at sight of Mr. Hardie, and said, " Papa! dear
papa!"

There was great joy: silent on the part of
Mrs. Dodd and Julia; but Mr. Hardie, who saw
in this a good omen, Heaven recognising his
penitence, burst out: " She knows me; she
speaks; she will live. How good God is! Yes,
my darling child, it is your own father. You
will be brave and get well for my sake."

Jane did not seem to pay much heed to these
words; she looked straight before her like one
occupied with her own thought, and said distinctly
and solemnly, " Papa—send for Alfred."

It fell on all three like a clap of thunder, those
gentle but decided tones, those simple natural
words.

Julia's eyes flashed into her mother's, and then
sought the ground directly.

There was a dead silence.

Mr. Hardie was the one to speak. "Why for
him, dear? Those who love you best are all
here."

"For Heaven's sake don't thwart her, sir," said
the doctor, in alarm. "This is no time to refuse
her anything in your power. Sometimes the
very expectation of a beloved person coming
keeps them alive; stimulates the powers."

Mr. Hardie was sore perplexed. He recoiled
from the sudden exposure that might take place,
if Alfred without any preparation or previous
conciliatory measures were allowed to burst in
upon them. And while his mind was whirling
within him in doubt and perplexity, Jane spoke
again; but no longer calmly and connectedly:
she was beginning to wander. Presently in her
wandering she spoke of Edward; called him dear
Edward. Mrs. Dodd rose hastily, and her first
impulse was to ask both gentlemen to retire; so
instinctively does a good woman protect her own
sex against the other. But, reflecting that this
was the father, she made an excuse and retired
herself instead, followed by Julia. The doctor
divined, and went to the window. The father sat
by the bed, and soon gathered his daughter loved
Edward Dodd.

The time was gone by when this would have
greatly pained him.

He sighed like one overmatched by fate; but
said, " You shall have him, my darling; he is a
good young man, he shall be your husband; you
shall be happy. Only live for my sake, for all our
sakes." She paid no attention and wandered on
a little; but her mind gradually cleared, and by-and-by
she asked quietly for a glass of water.
Mr. Hardie gave it her. She sipped, and he took
it from her. She looked at him close, and said distinctly,
"Have you sent for Alfred?"

"No, love, not yet?"

"Not yet?! There is no time to lose," she
said gravely.

Mr. Hardie trembled. Then, being alone with
her, the miserable man unable to say no, unwilling
to say yes, tried to persuade her not to ask
for Alfred. "My dear," he whispered, "I will
not refuse you: but I have a secret to confide to
you. Will you keep it?"

"Yes, papa, faithfully."

"Poor Alfred is not himself. He has delusions;
he is partly insane. My brother Thomas has
thought it best for us all to put him under gentle
restraint for a time. It would retard his cure to
have him down here and subject him to excitement."

"Papa," said Jane, "are you deceiving me,
or are you imposed upon? Alfred insane? It
is a falsehood. He came to me the night before
the wedding that was to be. O my brother, my
darling brother, how dare they say you are insane!
That letter you showed me then was a falsehood?
O papa!"

"I feared to frighten you," said Mr. Hardie,
and hung his head.

"I see it all," she cried; "those wicked men
with their dark words have imposed on you.
Bring him to me that I may reconcile you all, and