

goes to Paris, stopped at his house, and set down a very pretty young woman, who was so extremely ill, that she was not able to travel farther; and that notwithstanding all possible care was taken of her, she expired on the fourth day after her coming there.
They had discovered before she died, that she was an English heretic, as she absolutely refused to let any of their clergy attend her during her illness; but they knew not even her name, nor whom she belonged to; and though her cloaths and effects were sufficient to defray the expences of her funeral, yet as she was not a catholic, she could not be interred in consecrated ground; and mine host, to use his own phrase, said he was in a perfect quondary, to know how he should dispose of the body.

But as good luck would have it, a lady and her maid arrived at his house the next day, in a post-chaise—As they were English, he acquainted them with his distress; and the maid was sent to look at the dead person, in order to know if she could give any account of her—She returned to her mistress, and they were for some time shut up together—At last the lady herself went to look at this lifeless beauty, and the moment she saw her, she gave a loud scream, and ran back into her apartment.
Some time after, the maid called for him, and told him that it was her lady's daughter who had died there, and gave some hints of her having eloped from her friends—She desired that every thing might be prepared in the best manner,

for sending the body to England; and strictly charged him not to let any person go into the chamber where she lay, but those who were immediately concerned about the body.
She added, that he might dispose of the young lady's effects as he thought proper, except a small trunk, which contained only a miniature picture, a pocket book, and some letters; and the lady would pay all the necessary expences on this melancholy occasion.—Every thing was then done as she directed, to the mutual satisfaction of mine host, and that burier of the living and robber of the dead, Mrs. Colville.
I have not now leisure to expatiate on this extraordinary coincidence of circumstances,

yet I must observe that fortune seemed inclined to favour Mrs. Colville's deceit, by the particular situation of the young woman at Amiens, whose interment had imposed on all Delia's friends, even on her lover, and prevented any further inquiry about
