ble that she had resisted the admonitions of her own conscience, the kind expostulations of Gertrude, and the stronger and more alarming remarks of her cousin,-she felt a consciousness of guilt in the sight of God, which led her only to think of Him as an object to be dreaded. Circumstances added to this uneasiness. The mournful gloom that was cast over the house of her aunt,—that deep shadow which precedes the approach of death; Gertrude's anxious seriousness of manner, when, for short intervals, she left her aunt's room to converse with her; Mrs. Aberley's thoughtfulness and disrelish for any conversation but that of the gravest kind, all tended to increase Anna's uneasiness. Her former pursuits appeared to her, now, to have been madness and folly. Death, eternity, judgment, were ever in her thoughts; and, with her usual imprudence, she betrayed to every one the dark and unhappy state of her feelings, while, at the same time, she laboured to satisfy her conscience by the most scrupulous exactness in fulfilling what she considered religious duties, and in reproving the neglect of them in others. At last the hour so much dreaded by poor Mrs. Ashton arrived, and her timid spirit was called to enter its everlasting state of existence. When Mrs. Aberley had seen every duty of sisterly affection performed, and the orphan family restored to some degree of comfort, she pre pared to join her son in Scotland. She and his sister had received many letters from him, each succeeding one expressing the sentiments of a mind increasing in religious and happy feeling. The expectation of joining him was therefore the more pleasing to Mrs. Aberley and his sisters, after the late sad and painful scenes they had witnessed. In the following pages are narrated some conversations and events which took place at Arnavoir, commencing on the evening the ladies arrived there. |