His account of his patron, Mr. Cowley, by no means tallied with the apparent ease and gaiety contained in the letters he brought; and Mr. Hardcastle was told that Mr. Cowley had been seized with a fit whilst at Mr. Flint’s table, which dreadfully alarmed all present: happily a medical gentleman was one of the guests, and immediate relief was given. “It has shaken him,” added the captain; “but we hope he will rally again. I saw him the day I embarked; he made me promise not to say a word of this business to you; but I did not like his looks, and I thought he walked but poorly: God grant I may see him in my next trip! It should be the last labour of the Charlotte. She was launched to carry him and his angel wife to Jamaica; and if she swims safely till he is with his daughter, she will have been a lucky vessel to me.” He passed his hand over his eyes, and whistled away an emotion that he could not otherwise conquer. The captain’s apprehensions were but too well founded. Mr. Cowley lived not to reach England. A second and third attack of the palsy proved fatal; and poor Vernon found at his return many mourners to sympathize with him in a sorrow legitimately founded on his knowledge of the man, and on gratitude to his benefactor. We will pass over in silence the effects which this melancholy intelligence produced at Heathcot-Farm. Miss Cowley was roused from the deepest dejection of spirits by the events which succeeded to the first shock. Mr. Steadman summoned her and Mr. Hardcastle to London; and with precautions, which he judged necessary, placed before the orphan a copy of her late father’s will, which, with all its requisite documents, had been formerly sent to him by the executor, Mr. Flamall.