Mrs. Yorke's account of these 'altercating conversations' between the brothers, at the second of which, on the evening of the 17th, she was herself present, is naturally much more highly coloured. Charles Yorke was evidently terribly discomposed by it, speaking of Lord Hardwicke's language as 'exceeding all bounds of temper, reason, and even common civility.' 'I hope,' he said to his wife, 'he will in cooler moments think better of it, and my brother John also, for if I lose the support of my family, I shall be undone.' I need not pursue the subject of this distressing difference between the brothers, which no doubt assumed an altogether exaggerated importance in the sensitive and affectionate, but self-centred, mind of poor Charles Yorke, shaken as he was by the strain and struggle of these days, but which was probably the immediate cause of his fatal illness. 'We returned home' (from St. James's Square), writes Mrs. Yorke, 'and Mr. Woodcock followed in the chariot with the Great Seal. The King had given it in his closet, and at the same time Mr. Yorke kissed his Majesty's hand on being made Baron of Morden in the county of Cambridge. Not once did Mr. Yorke close his eyes, though at my entreaty he took composing medicines.... Before morning he was determined to return the Great Seal, for he said if he kept it he could not live. I know not what I said, for I was terrified almost to death. At six o'clock I found him so ill that I sent for Dr. Watson, who ought immediately to have bled him, instead of which he contented himself with talking to him. He ordered him some medicine and was to see him again in the evening. In the meantime Mr. Yorke was obliged to rise to receive the different people who would crowd to him on this occasion, but before he left me, he assured me that when the Duke of Grafton came to him at night, he would resign the seals. When his company had left him, he came up to me, and even then, death was upon his face. He said he had settled all his affairs, that he should retire absolutely from business, and would go to Highgate the next day, and that he was resolved to meddle no more with public affairs. I was myself so ill with fatigue and anxiety that I was not able to dine with him, but Dr. Plumptre did; when I went to them after dinner I found Mr. Yorke in a state of fixed melancholy. He neither spoke to me nor to Dr. Plumptre; I tried every method to wake and amuse him, but in vain. I could support it no longer, I fell upon my knees before him and begged of him not to affect himself so much--that he would resume his fortitude and trust to his own judgment--in short, I said a great deal which I remember now no more; my sensations were little short of distraction at that time. In an hour or two after he grew much worse, and Dr. Watson coming in persuaded him to go to bed, and giving him a strong opiate, he fell asleep.