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 ing at Madeline), how deadly pale you are; I fear sitting up does not agree with you."

The spirits of Madeline, weakened by grief, were indeed affected, in spite of her reason, with a kind of superstitious awe, by the stories of her companions.

"Let us mull some wine (cried Agatha); it will do us all good."

"Ay, do (said Floretta), and I will make some toast."

Madeline now said she would step into the Countess's chamber, and try whether she still slept. She accordingly stole into it, and bending over her pillow, had the satisfaction of finding she continued in a tranquil sleep. This somewhat cheered her; and after taking a glass of the mulled wine, she felt the gloom of her spirits pretty well depressed. Agatha then resumed her story.

"Scarcely (said she) had Peter uttered the last word, when his master dropped senseless at