Where am I?—­said she.  How drowsy I am!  How long have I dozed?  Don’t go, Sir, (for I was retiring,) I am very stupid, and shall be more and more so, I suppose.

She then offered to raise herself; but being ready to faint through weakness, was forced to sit down again, reclining her head on her chair back; and, after a few moments, I believe now, my good friends, said she, all your kind trouble will soon be over.  I have slept, but am not refreshed, and my fingers’ ends seem numbed—­have no feeling! (holding them up,)—­’tis time to send the letter to my good Norton.

Shall I, Madam, send my servant post with it?

O no, Sir, I thank you.  It will reach the dear woman too soon, (as she will think,) by the post.

I told her this was not post-day.

Is it Wednesday still, said she; bless me!  I know not how the time goes —­but very tediously, ’tis plain.  And now I think I must soon take to my bed.  All will be most conveniently, and with least trouble, over there—­ will it not, Mrs. Lovick?—­I think, Sir, turning to me, I have left nothing to these last incapacitating hours.  Nothing either to say, or to do—­I bless God, I have not.  If I had, how unhappy should I be!  Can you, Sir, remind me of any thing necessary to be done or said to make your office easy?

If, Madam, your cousin Morden should come, you would be glad to see him, I presume?

I am too weak to wish to see my cousin now.  It would but discompose me, and him too.  Yet, if he come while I can see him, I will see him, were it but to thank him for former favours, and for his present kind intentions to me.  Has any body been here from him?

He has called, and will be here, Madam, in half an hour; but he feared to surprise you.

Nothing can surprise me now, except my mamma were to favour me with her last blessing in person.  That would be a welcome surprise to me, even yet.  But did my cousin come purposely to town to see me?

Yes, Madam, I took the liberty to let him know, by a line last Monday, how ill you were.

You are very kind, Sir.  I am, and have been greatly obliged to you.  But I think I shall be pained to see him now, because he will be concerned to see me.  And yet, as I am not so ill as I shall presently be—­the sooner he comes the better.  But if he come, what shall I do about the screen?  He will chide me, very probably, and I cannot bear chiding now.  Perhaps, [leaning upon Mrs. Lovick and Mrs. Smith,] I can walk into the next apartment to receive him.

She motioned to rise, but was ready to faint again, and forced to sit still.

The Colonel was in a perfect agitation behind the screen to hear this discourse; and twice, unseen by his cousin, was coming from it towards her; but retreated for fear of surprising her too much.

I stept to him, and favoured his retreat; she only saying, Are you going, Mr. Belford?  Are you sent for down?  Is my cousin come?  For she heard somebody step softly across the room, and thought it to be me; her hearing being more perfect than her sight.