A sleep almost like death still locks up the faculties of Sibella. During her last interval from pain and convulsions, she gave her final directions, and you my Lord are concerned therein. Mr. Valmont is sick, sick at heart. He could not come to London; but he sent his steward with forgiveness, blessings, and an earnest request that Sibella would make her own disposition of her fortune, by which he has resolved most faithfully to abide. There is a sum in hand of near a hundred thousand pounds, out of which she has desired that your debts may be discharged, my Lord. Her request to you is, that you will in future refrain from the pernicious practice by which they were incurred. I have no doubt but you will; and certain am I, my Lord, that you may find means of disposing of your time, that in real pleasure will beggar all comparison with those to which you have been accustomed. I am summoned to Sibella's chamber. * * * * * Again Sibella doses.--Her fits have ceased, and death becomes gentle in its preparation. 'Now, my Caroline,' said she as I approached her bed, 'Come and let me bid you farewel. I find there is something yet for me to feel in leaving you.--Methought--' she added after a pause--'sensation had been dead in me--I have had strange feelings, Caroline. And now I seem awakening from a fearful dream. I have lost the raging fire which consumed me--early scenes recur--and here,' laying her hand on her bosom, 'something swells as if--as if I yet had--affections!' So saying, the melting sufferer burst into tears; and my fond hopes would have persuaded me, that these tears were the beginning of her restoration. No, my Lord, it is only fondness that could for one moment entertain the supposition. 'Do not let us weep,' said she, 'Caroline, there is a person--'tis, I desire it, Caroline--whom you must forgive, pity, and befriend. When you meet him--Clement'--the name hung upon her quivering lips--'tell him to be sincere. Tell all the world so, Caroline.--My uncle's secrets could have done me but temporary harm, it was mine own secrets destroyed me--Oh that fatal contract!' A long pause succeeded; but she neither wept not sighed. She had folded her hands upon her bosom, and she looked intently upward. Again raising herself, she embraced me; and then she said, 'Poor Murden! he had his secrets too, and he has died for them!' * * * * * My Lord--it is over.--She expired in my arms. * * * * * Yes, they shall be entombed together--the dearer parts of my existence.--I loved them both as I never loved man nor woman beside.