by her husband undertaking to ride over to give the patterns and the orders to you before your setting forth.  You said nothing of having seen him—­nor do I see how it was possible that you could have done so, seeing that you only left your chamber just before the breakfast that you never tasted, my poor child.  He never returned till long after noon, and what with fretting after him, and disappointment, that happened which Lady Archfield had always apprehended, and the poor fragile young creature worked herself into a state which ended before midnight in the birth of a puny babe, and her own death shortly after.  She wanted two months of completing her sixteenth year, and was of so frail a constitution that Dr. Brown had never much hope of her surviving the birth of her child.  It was a cruel thing to marry her thus early, ungrown in body or mind, but she had no one to care for her before she was brought hither.  The blame, as I tell Sir Philip, and would fain persuade poor Charles, is really with those who bred her up so uncontrolled as to be the victim of her humours; but the unhappy youth will listen to no consolation.  He calls himself a murderer, shuts himself up, and for the most part will see and speak to no one, but if forced by his father’s command to unlock his chamber door, returns at once to sit with his head hidden in his arms crossed upon the table, and if father, mother, or sister strive to rouse him and obtain answer from him, he will only murmur forth, “I should only make it worse if I did.”  It is piteous to see a youth so utterly overcome, and truly I think his condition is a greater distress to our good friends than the loss of the poor young wife.  They asked him what name he would have given to his child, but all the answer they could get was, “As you will, only not mine;” and in the enforced absence of my brother of Fareham I baptized him Philip.  The funeral will take place to-morrow, and Sir Philip proposes immediately after to take his son to Oxford, and there endeavour to find a tutor of mature age and of prudence, with whom he may either study at New College or be sent on the grand tour.  It is the only notion that the poor lad has seemed willing to entertain, as if to get away from his misery, and I cannot but think it well for him.  He is not yet twenty, and may, as it were, begin life again the wiser and the better man for his present extreme sorrow.  Lady Archfield is greatly wrapped up in the care of the babe, who, I fear, is in danger of being killed by overcare, if by nothing else, though truly all is in the hands of God.  I have scarce quitted the afflicted family since I was summoned to them on Friday, since Sir Philip has no one else on whom to depend for comfort or counsel; and if I can obtain the services of Mr. Ellis from Portsmouth for a few Sundays, I shall ride with him to Oxford to assist in the choice of a tutor to go abroad with Mr. Archfield.