, I beg you to compose yourself—He is now in the house, and most ardently longs to see you, but must not be indulged at the expence of injuring your health, by an increase of agitation—If you were calm, he should appear this moment.—I am quite calm, she said, and fainted away.
I do not think I was ever so terrified in my life—By the assistance of the nuns

she was brought to herself in about ten minutes, and, by the superior's permission, Sir George was admitted into the parlour with me—I thought their meeting would have killed us all—Even an old nun wept, while she administered drops and water to the whole company.—I feel myself too much affected, even at this instant, to be able to repeat the no-conversation that passed at the time. Sir George embraced me, as if I had been his mistress, and Delia clung round Mrs. Walter's neck, calling her deliverer, guardian angel! &c.
When our transports had a little subsided, I proposed our adjourning to the inn, till we could be accommodated with private lodgings; for we had before agreed to wait the return of the chancellor's

messenger at St. Omers, as it was absolutely necessary that my brother should have a little rest, after his fatigue both of mind and body—But he was not fated to taste repose as speedily as I then hoped for.
I received Miss Colville in due form, from the hands of the superior, by whom many compliments and apologies were made to her late prisoner.—Delia's behaviour was charming, for instead of reproaches for the severity she had suffered, she returned thanks for the great care that had been taken of her, and took a most polite and even affectionate leave of the whole community.
Mrs. Walter and Olivia accompanied us to the inn, and we passed the day in

mutual congratulations, and in moralizing on the providential series of incidents that had procured Delia's deliverance—But towards evening we all perceived a visible change in her countenance, and before midnight there appeared strong symptoms of a fever.
My brother was almost distracted; my heart bleeds for him—Should she again be torn from his fond heart, I think it would be impossible that he should survive the second blow—But I will hope the best—He has not gone to bed, since we left Paris; he never stirs from the ante-chamber of the room where she lies, and looks so dreadfully, that I am shocked at seeing him.
The physicians here say that she is not in danger, but they are so miserably

ignorant,
