Lying in a tattered bed, she now discovered Mary Whiston. Her face was flushed and swelled, her eyes closed, and some power, appeared to have laid a leaden hand upon her faculties. The floor was moistened and stained by the effusion from her stomach. Constantia touched her hand, and endeavoured to rouse her. It was with difficulty that her attention was excited. Her languid eyes, were scarcely opened before they again closed, and she sunk into forgetfulness. Repeated efforts, however, at length recalled her to herself, and extorted from her some account of her condition. On the day before, at noon, her stomach became diseased, her head dizzy, and her limbs unable to support her. Her brother was absent, and her drowsiness, interrupted only by paroxysms of vomiting, continued till his return late in the evening. He had then shown himself, for a few minutes, at her bedside, had made some inquiries and precipitately retired, since when he had not reappeared. It was natural to imagine that Whiston had gone to procure medical assistance. That he had not returned, during a day and a half, was matter of surprise. His own indisposition was recollected, and his absence could only be accounted for by supposing that sickness had disabled him from regaining his own house. What was his real destiny it was impossible to conjecture. It was not till some months after this period that satisfactory intelligence was gained upon this head. It appeared that Whiston had allowed his terrors to overpower the sense of what was due to his sister and to humanity. On discovering the condition of the unhappy girl, he left the houses and, instead of seeking a physician, he turned his step towards the country. After travelling some hours, being exhausted by want of food, by fatigue; and by mental as well as bodily anguish, he laid himself down under the shelter of a hayrick, in a vacant field. Here he was discovered in the morning by the inhabitants of a neighbouring farm house. These people had too much regard for their own safety to accommodate him under their roof, or even to approach within fifty paces of his person. A passenger whose attention and compassion had been excited by this incident was endowed with more courage. He lifted the stranger in his arms, and carried him from this unwholesome spot to a barn. This was the only service which the passenger was able to perform. Whiston, deserted by every human creature, burning with fever, tormented into madness by thirst, spent three miserable days in agony. When dead, no one would cover his body with earth, but he was suffered to decay by piecemeal. The dwelling being at no great distance from the barn, could not be wholly screened from the malignant vapour which a corpse thus neglected, could not fail to produce.