but landed there in such a state that she could travel only by
boat or in a litter. Her father, in spite of his infirmities,
set out from Montpellier to meet her; and she, with the
impatience which is often the sign of approaching death, hastened
towards him. Those who were about her in vain implored her to
travel slowly. She said that every hour was precious, that she
only wished to see her papa and to die. She met him at Toulouse,
embraced him, received from his hand the sacred bread and wine,
and thanked God that they had passed one day in each other's
society before they parted forever. She died that night.

It was some time before even the strong mind of Atterbury
recovered from this cruel blow. As soon as he was himself again
he became eager for action and conflict; for grief, which
disposes gentle natures to retirement, to inaction, and to
meditation, only makes restless spirits more restless. The
Pretender, dull and bigoted as he was, had found out that he had
not acted wisely in parting with one who, though a heretic, was,
in abilities and accomplishments, the foremost man of the
Jacobite party. The bishop was courted back, and was without
much difficulty induced to return to Paris and to become once
more the phantom minister of a phantom monarchy. But his long
and troubled life was drawing to a close. To the last, however,
his intellect retained all its keenness and vigour. He learned,
in the ninth year of his banishment, that he had been accused by
Oldmixon, as dishonest and malignant a scribbler as any that has
been saved from oblivion by the Dunciad, of having, in concert
with other Christchurchmen, garbled Clarendon's History of the
Rebellion. The charge, as respected Atterbury, had not the
slightest foundation: for he was not one of the editors of the