Oh ! what a joyful and unexpected
sight it was for poor John Burney. No
wonder that he could not believe
his senses. No wonder that in his
first emotions he conceived it to be
the disembodied spirit of his beautiful
Sophie, and that he exclaimed, as the
nurse had truly reported, "I come."
But a few words from Sophie's lips
convinced him that she came not to
summon him to another world, but to
bid him live for her, and lest the scene
should appear to him in after hoars to
have sprung only from a disordered
brain, or an exalted imagination, she
left with him a memorial of its reality,
which he could not doubt a ring which
he well remembered to have seen her
wear. The sight of this npon his finger,
when he awoke after his long and tran
quil sleep, assured him that his bliss
was real, and in the first moments of his
recovery, he was sensible only to the
delightful thought, that Sophie had
vowed to live for him and him alone.
But doubts and anxieties began to
mingle with the hopes to which this
assurance had given rise. One day, as
his uncle sat by his bedside, he took
notice that his countenance changed
several times.
"John," said he, "you are in pain"
"Alas ! yes," replied the nephew.
"Where, my boy ?" asked Mr. Ban
nister. "Oh ! dear uncle, if I dared to tell
you !"
"Dared to tell me! What, you, whom
I love as my own soul, you to have a
secret from me, and this secret perhaps
the cause of your illness ?" exclaimed
Mr. Bannister.
