 missed him at his own house, and
having been obliged to follow him into another county.

He delivered to Miss Mowbray a letter from Mrs. Stafford, with which
Emmeline, eager to read it, retired--


    'Trust me, Emmeline, no abatement in my tender regard, has
  occasioned my omitting to write to you: but anxiety of mind so
  great, as to deprive me of all power to attend to any thing but
  it's immediate object.--Your poor little friend Harry, who looked
  so much recovered, and so full of health and spirits, when you left
  him at Swansea, was three weeks ago seized again with one of those
  fevers to which he has so repeatedly been liable, and for many days
  his life appeared to be in the most immediate danger. You know how
  far we are from a physician; and you know my anxiety for this first
  darling of my heart; judge then, my Emmeline, of the miserable
  hours I have known, between hope and fear, and the sleepless nights
  I have passed at the bed side of my suffering cherub; and in my
  present state I doubly feel all this anxiety and fatigue, and am
  very much otherwise than well. Of myself, however, I think not,
  since Harry is out of danger, and Dr. Farnaby thinks will soon be
  entirely restored; but he is still so very weak, that I never quit
  him even a moment. The rest of my children are well; and all who
  are capable of recollection, remember and love you.

    'And now, my dear Miss Mowbray, as the visitors who have been with
  me ever since my return from Swansea, are happily departed and no
  others expected, and as Mr. Stafford will be engaged in town almost
  all the winter, in consequence of his father's death, will you not
  come to me? _You_ only can alleviate and share a thousand anxieties
  that prey on my spirits; _you_ only can sweeten the hour of my
  confinement, which will happen in January; and before _you_ only I
  can sigh at liberty and be forgiven.

    'Ah! Emmeline--the death of Mr. Stafford's father, far from
  producing satisfaction as increasing our fortune, brings to me only
  regret and sorrow. He loved me with great affection; and I owe him a
  thousand obligations. The family will have reason to regret his
  loss; tho' the infirmities of the latter part of his life were not
  much alleviated by their attendance or attention.

    'Come to me, Emmeline, if possible; come, if you can
