We had hardly recovered ourselves, when she, quite easy, cheerful, and smiling, returned to us:  Doctor, said she (seeing we had been moved) you will excuse me for the concern I give you; and so will you, Mr. Goddard, and you, Mr. Belford; for ’tis a concern that only generous natures can show:  and to such natures sweet is the pain, if I may say so, that attends such a concern.  But as I have some few preparations still to make, and would not (though in ease of Mr. Belford’s future cares, which is, and ought to be, part of my study) undertake more than it is likely I shall have time lent me to perform, I would beg of you to give me your opinions [you see my way of living, and you may be assured that I will do nothing wilfully to shorten my life] how long it may possibly be, before I may hope to be released from all my troubles.

They both hesitated, and looked upon each other.  Don’t be afraid to answer me, said she, each sweet hand pressing upon the arm of each gentleman, with that mingled freedom and reserve, which virgin modesty, mixed with conscious dignity, can only express, and with a look serenely earnest, tell me how long you think I may hold it! and believe me, gentlemen, the shorter you tell me my time is likely to be, the more comfort you will give me.

With what pleasing woe, said the Doctor, do you fill the minds of those who have the happiness to converse with you, and see the happy frame you are in! what you have undergone within a few days past has much hurt you:  and should you have fresh troubles of those kinds, I could not be answerable for your holding it—­And there he paused.

How long, Doctor?—­I believe I shall have a little more ruffling—­I am afraid I shall—­but there can happen only one thing that I shall not be tolerably easy under—­How long then, Sir?—­

He was silent.

A fortnight, Sir?

He was still silent.

Ten days?—­A week?—­How long, Sir? with smiling earnestness.

If I must speak, Madam, if you have not better treatment than you have lately met with, I am afraid—­There again he stopt.

Afraid of what, Doctor? don’t be afraid—­How long, Sir?

That a fortnight or three weeks may deprive the world of the finest flower in it.

A fortnight or three weeks yet, Doctor?—­But God’s will be done!  I shall, however, by this means, have full time, if I have but strength and intellect, to do all that is now upon my mind to do.  And so, Sirs, I can but once more thank you [turning to each of us] for all your goodness to me; and, having letters to write, will take up no more of your time—­Only, Doctor, be pleased to order me some more of those drops:  they cheer me a little, when I am low; and putting a fee into his unwilling hand—­You know the terms, Sir!—­Then, turning to Mr. Goddard, you’ll be so good, Sir, as to look in upon me to-night or to-morrow, as you have opportunity:  and you, Mr. Belford, I know, will be desirous to set out to prepare for the last office for your late friend:  so I wish you a good journey, and hope to see you when that is performed.