"A fever and strong delirium seized me, and my life was despaired of. At
length, nature, overpowered with fatigue, gave way to the salutary power
of rest, and a quiet slumber of some hours restored me to reason, though
the extreme weakness of my frame prevented my feeling my distress so
acutely as I otherways should.

"The first object that struck me on awaking, was Lucy sitting by my
bedside; her pale countenance and sable dress prevented my enquiries for
poor George: for the letter I had received from him, was the first thing
that occurred to my memory. By degrees the rest returned: I recollected
being arrested, but could no ways account for being in this apartment,
whither they had conveyed me during my illness.

"I was so weak as to be almost unable to speak. I pressed Lucy's hand,
and looked earnestly round the apartment in search of another dear
object.

"Where is your mother?" said I, faintly.

"The poor girl could not answer: she shook her head in expressive
silence; and throwing herself on the bed, folded her arms about me, and
burst into tears.

"What! both gone?" said I.

"Both," she replied, endeavouring to restrain her emotions: "but they
are happy, no doubt."

Here Mr. Eldridge paused: the recollection of the scene was too painful
to permit him to proceed.