On entering a small chamber, I observed a bed, with the curtains closely drawn. I advanced towards it, and, unfolding them, beheld the unhappy Rachel lying in a state of apparent insensibility. 'She is dying,' whispered the woman, 'she has been in strong convulsions; but she could not die in peace without seeing Madam Montague, and obtaining her forgiveness.' I approached the unfortunate girl, and took her lifeless hand.--A feeble pulse still trembled--I gazed upon her, for some moments, in silence.--She heaved a deep sigh--her lips moved, inarticulately. She, at length, opened her eyes, and, fixing them upon me, the blood seemed to rush through her languid frame--reanimating it. She sprung up in the bed, and, clasping her hands together, uttered a few incoherent words. 'Be pacified, my dear--I am not angry with you--I feel only pity.' She looked wildly. 'Ah! my dear lady, I am a wicked girl--but not--Oh, no!--_not a murderer!_ I did not--indeed, I did not--murder my child!' A cold tremor seized me--I turned heart-sick--a sensation of horror thrilled through my veins! 'My dear, my kind mistress,' resumed the wretched girl, 'can you forgive me?--Oh! that cruel, barbarous, man!--It was _he_ who did it--indeed, it was _he_ who did it!' Distraction glared in her eyes. 'I do forgive you,' said I, in broken accents. 'I will take care of you--but you must be calm.' 'I will--I will'--replied she, in a rapid tone of voice--'but do not send me to prison--_I did not murder it!_--Oh! my child, my child!' continued she, in a screaming tone of frantic violence, and was again seized with strong convulsions. We administered all the assistance in our power. I endeavoured, with success, to stifle my emotions in the active duties of humanity. Rachel once more revived. After earnestly commending her to the care of the good woman of the house, and promising to send medicines and nourishment proper for her situation, and to reward their attentions--desiring that she might be kept perfectly still, and not be suffered to talk on subjects that agitated her--I quitted the place, presaging but too much, and not having, at that time, the courage to make further enquiries. CHAPTER XXVI On entering my own house my heart misgave me. I enquired, with trepidation, for my husband, and was informed--'That he had returned soon after my departure, and had shut himself in his apartment; that, on being followed by Mr Lucas, he had turned fiercely upon him, commanding him, in an imperious tone, instantly to leave him; adding, he had affairs of importance to transact; and should any one dare to intrude on him, it would be at the peril of their lives.' All the family appeared in consternation, but no one had presumed to disobey the orders of their master.--They expressed their satisfaction at my return--Alas! I was impotent to relieve the apprehensions which, I too plainly perceived, had taken possession of their minds.