I took it with gladness, for I felt my brain strangely bewildered by the terror that I had just undergone. Indeed I have sometimes experienced the same sensation before, and it is extremely disagreeable. They then left a candle in my room, and departed. My mind still remains uneasy; but I have barricaded the door, and am determined on not undressing. I believe, however, I must now throw myself on the bed; for the draught has made me sleepy. Adieu. LETTER XXVIII O Biddy Grimes, I am poisoned! That fatal draught last night--why did I drink it?--I am in dreadful agony. When this reaches you, all will be over.--But I would not die without letting you know. Farewell for ever, my poor Biddy! I bequeath you all my ornaments. LETTER XXIX Yes, my friend, you may well stare at receiving another letter from me; and at hearing that I have not been poisoned in the least! I must unfold the mystery. When I woke this morning, after my nocturnal perambulation, I found my limbs so stiff, and such pains in all my bones, that I was almost unable to move. Judge of my horror and despair; for it instantly flashed across my mind, that Lady Gwyn had poisoned me! My whole frame underwent a sudden revulsion; I grew sick, and rang the bell with violence; nor ceased an instant, till half the servants, and Lady Gwyn herself, had burst into my chamber. 'If you have a remnant of mercy left,' cried I, 'send for a doctor!' 'What is the matter, my dear,' said her ladyship. 'Only that you have poisoned me, my dear,' cried I. 'Dear, indeed! I presume your ladyship imagines, that the liberty you have taken with my life, authorizes all other freedoms. Oh, what will become of me!' 'Do, tell me,' said she, 'how are you unwell?' 'I am sick to death,' cried I. 'I have pains in all my limbs, and I shall be a corpse in half an hour. Oh, indeed, you have done the business completely. Lady Eleanor Gwyn, I do here, on my death-bed, and with all my senses about me, accuse you, before your domestics, of having administered a deadly potion to me last night.' 'Go for the physician,' said her ladyship to a servant. 'Well may you feel alarmed,' cried I. 'Your life will pay the forfeit of mine.' 'But you need not feel alarmed,' said her ladyship, 'for really, what I gave you last night, was merely to make you sleep.' 'Yes,' cried I, 'the sleep of the grave! O Lady Gwyn, what have I done to you, to deserve death at your hands? And in such a manner too! Had you even shewn so much regard to custom and common decency, as to have offered me the potion in a bowl or a goblet, there might have been some little palliation. But to add insult to injury;--to trick me out of my life with a paltry tea-cup;--to poison a girl of my pretensions, as vulgarly as you would a rat;--no, no, Madam, this is not to be pardoned!'