In the interval Lieutenant Stanwick, though suffering a good deal of pain, shortly mentioned a few particulars of the conflict; adding, "I cannot help longing to hear what becomes of the poor fellow, that we brought away in our boat. He wished to be carried to Folkestone, and "--"To Folkestone!" exclaimed Emily, "I hope it is not poor Mary's husband!" "He did not mention his name," said Henry; "indeed he could hardly speak at all, but he was a remarkably well-made active looking fellow, and I was vexed to my heart at his having engaged in such a service." The sisters could not help having some misgivings, but they had a nearer cause for anxiety in the severe wound of a relation so deservedly dear to them. When the surgeon arrived, he found the bone of the arm so much injured, that immediate amputation was necessary. The operation was successfully performed, but was followed by a considerable degree of fever, during which the two sisters nursed him with unremitting assiduity. The fourth day after the amputation Henry seemed much better, and both he and the Admiral begged them not to continue to keep themselves such close prisoners, but to resume their usual exercise. They were the more ready to comply, as they were very anxious to go themselves to Folkestone, to enquire after Mary Waldron. They found out the house; but upon approaching it, observed a degree of bustle, and saw several men in sailors' jackets--most of them with some symbol of mourning about their dress--issuing from the door. Presently the coffin was brought out; the men raised it on their shoulders; the black pall was thrown over it; and with measured steps they moved towards the church-yard, while the solemn toll of the bell, being heard at shorter intervals, announced the near approach of the corpse to its last mansion. The sisters waited at some little distance, till the melancholy procession had passed on; and then going up to the door of one of the neighbouring cottages, enquired with feelings of deep interest after poor Mary. She, they found, was perfectly insensible to all that was passing. The morning after her husband had been brought home, she for sometime appeared to retain no trace of what had happened. The circumstance of her being not in her own bed, and the manner of Hannah Reeves, who was unable to control her feelings, by degrees brought back to her recollection the dreadful calamity which had befallen her. She uttered one piercing cry of woe, and then a deadly stupor took possession of her whole frame. From this she had at last been roused, but it was succeeded by a wild delirium, and a burning fever, which no skill or attention had been able in the slightest degree to mitigate.