Day dawned, and no change was perceivable; but in two hours afterwards
she opened her eyes. I crossed the room, to see whether she observed my
motion. She did; and I therefore opened the curtain, and spoke to her.
She gazed, but did not reply. Presently she seized my arm, muttering
some words, of which "my mother!" was all I could understand. I took the
opportunity of saying, that I was going to write to her family, and
asked how I should address them.

"My family!" said she, "I have none. They are all gone now!"

I thought her mind was wandering. "Your father and mother," said I,
"where are they?" My heart smote me as I uttered the words, but the
question was necessary.

"I have no father and mother!"

"Nor brothers and sisters? Pardon me, but I must ask."

"You need not ask, because I will tell you. There were many of us once,
but I am the last!"

I could not go on, yet it must be done.

"But you have friends, who will come to you?"

"Yes; I have a grandfather. He lives in Hampshire. He is very old, but
he will come to me, if he still lives. If not!"----

"He _will_ come," said I, "I will write to him directly."