Excuse me, Sir, [turning to me, who was as much moved as herself,] I loved the dear creature, as never woman loved another.  Excuse my frantic grief.  How has the glory of her sex fallen a victim to villany and to hard-heartedness!

Madam, said I, they all have it!—­Now indeed they have it—­

And let them have it;—­I should belie my love for the friend of my heart, were I to pity them!—­But how unhappy am I [looking upon her] that I saw her not before these eyes were shut, before these lips were for ever closed!—­O Sir, you know not the wisdom that continually flowed from these lips when she spoke!—­Nor what a friend I have lost!

Then surveying the lid, she seemed to take in at once the meaning of the emblems; and this gave her so much fresh grief, that though she several times wipes her eyes, she was unable to read the inscription and texts; turning, therefore, to me, Favour me, Sir, I pray you, by a line, with the description of these emblems, and with these texts; and if I might be allowed a lock of the dear creature’s hair——­

I told her that her executor would order both; and would also send her a copy of her last will; in which she would find the most grateful remembrances of her love for her, whom she calls The sister of her heart.

Justly, said she, does she call me so; for we had but one heart, but one soul, between us; and now my better half is torn from me—­What shall I do?

But looking round her, on a servant’s stepping by the door, as if again she had apprehended it was some of the family—­Once more, said she, a solemn, an everlasting adieu!—­Alas for me! a solemn, an everlasting adieu!

Then again embracing her face with both her hands, and kissing it, and afterwards the hands of the dear deceased, first one, then the other, she gave me her hand, and quitting the room with precipitation, rushed into her chariot; and, when there, with profound sight, and a fresh burst of tears, unable to speak, she bowed her head to me, and was driven away.

The inconsolable company saw how much I had been moved on my return to them.  Mr. James Harlowe had been telling them what had passed between him and me.  And, finding myself unfit for company, and observing, that they broke off talk at my coming in, I thought it proper to leave them to their consultations.

And here I will put an end to this letter, for indeed, Sir, the very recollection of this affecting scene has left me nearly as unable to proceed, as I was, just after it, to converse with my cousins.  I am, Sir, with great truth,

Your most obedient humble servant,
William Morden.

LETTER XXIX

Colonel Morden [in continuation.] Tuesday morning, Sept. 12.

The good Mrs. Norton is arrived, a little amended in her spirits; owing to the very posthumous letters, as I may call them, which you, Mr. Belford, as well as I, apprehended would have had fatal effects upon her.