At that period, I believe he could have attached himself to me very sincerely; more so than formerly. His old friend, Lady W----, was in a very bad state of health, and was not expected to live. Argyle lamented the prospect of her loss, with real friendship, and would have found consolation in my society, but for my late desperate passion for another, which however I should soon have overcome, now that all was still and calm and quiet about the region of my heart. This calm was heaven to a poor wretch who had undergone so much mental suffering. I could not account for it; or rather, I could still less account for all my former misery. As soon as I was able to converse, I inquired after my poor protégée, at St. George's Hospital. My housekeeper informed me, that she still lingered in a very hopeless state. The idea of dying without seeing me again appeared to affect her much. I desired my housekeeper to carry her everything she wanted, and to assure her that my very first visit should be to her, the moment Dr. Bain would permit me to leave the house. That very kind friend had so reasoned with me, about the sin and folly of trifling as I had done hitherto with the blessings of health, that I had passed my word to obey him in everything, on pain of incurring his lasting displeasure. On the very first day I received permission to go out, while my carriage was waiting at the door, I was shocked by a most melancholy scene. The poor young creature from St. George's Hospital, having resisted the persuasions and threats of the matrons, declaring that she would see me before she died, drove up to my door in a hackney-coach literally in the agonies of death! My landlord, who had just called for his rent, hearing from my servants that a dying woman was come to me from the hospital, declared that she should not enter his house. What was to be done? We were all women and could not contend. My footman would have had her brought in by force; but force was the very thing in which the most particlerst man as is was most deficient. The poor creature held out her hands, entreating me for the love of God not to send her away from me in her last moments. The scene was indeed disgraceful to humanity and I was very much affected by it; but how could I help it? The landlord insisted she should not come in. There was no time to be lost, she must go to the workhouse. "We will lose no time in contention with this unfeeling wretch," said I, "but I will go with you to the workhouse, and nurse you." "God bless you! God bless you!" exclaimed the poor dying creature, faintly. "I am not afraid of dying, while you are with me." I will not dwell on a scene, which even at this distant period I cannot remember without shuddering. In less than an hour after my poor protégée was placed on a miserable couch in Marylebone workhouse, she expired in my arms, earnestly and piously recommending her soul to God....