194 THERE IS NO HURRY.

serted her: she attached no blame latterly to

any one, only called day and night upon him.

Ol! it was hard to bear—it was very hard to
,,??

«| will send a proper person in the morning
to arrange that she may be placed with my bro-
ther,” said Charles.

Mary shrieked almost with the wildness of a
maniac. ‘*No, no; asfar from him as possi-
ble! Oh! not with him! She was to blame
in our days of splendour as much as he was 5
but she could not see it ; and I durst not reason
with her. Not with him! She would disturb
him in his grave !”

Her uncle shuddered, while the young girl
sobbed in the bitter wailing tone their landlady
complained of.

“No,” resumed Mary, “let the parish bury
her; even its officers were kind ; and if you
- bury her, or they, it is still a pauper’s funeral.
I see all these things clearly now; death, while
it closes the eyes of some, opens the eyes of
others; it has opened mine.”

But why should I prolong this sad story. It
‘5 not the tale of one, but of many. There are
dozens, scores, hundreds of instances of the
same kind, arising from the same cause, in our
broad islands. In the lunatic asylum, where
that poor girl, even Mary Adams, has found re-
fuge during the past two years, there are many
cases of insanity arising from change of cir-