violence made her worse: and that, if she would compose herself, she
might get into a frame more proper for her present circumstances.

Who, I? interrupted she: I get into a better frame! I, who can neither
cry, nor pray! Yet already feel the torments of the d----d! What mercy
can I expect? What hope is left for me?--Then, that sweet creature! that
incomparable Miss Harlowe! she, it seems, is dead and gone! O that
cursed man! Had it not been for him! I had never had this, the most
crying of all my sins, to answer for!

And then she set up another howl.

And is she dead?--Indeed dead? proceeded she, when her howl was over--O
what an angel have I been the means of destroying! For though it was
that it was mine, and your's, and your's, and your's, devils as we all
were [turning to Sally, to Polly, and to one or two more] that he did not
do her justice! And that, that is my curse, and will one day be yours!
And then again she howled.

I still advised patience. I said, that if her time were to be so short
as she apprehended, the more ought she to endeavour to compose herself:
and then she would at least die with more ease to herself--and
satisfaction to her friends, I was going to say--But the word die put her
into a violent raving, and thus she broke in upon me. Die, did you say,
Sir?--Die!--I will not, I cannot die!--I know not how to die!--Die, Sir!
--And must I then die?--Leave this world?--I cannot bear it!--And who
brought you hither, Sir?--[her eyes striking fire at me] Who brought you
hither to tell me I must die, Sir?--I cannot, I will not leave this
world. Let others die, who wish for another! who expect a better!--I
have had my plagues in this; but would compound for all future hopes, so