It was as we feared; he was found lying at the bottom of a rock, no more than ten feet high--but lifeless. His neck had been dislocated by the fall. There were no external bruises--no signs of any struggle--nothing painful in his appearance. I cannot relate every circumstance of that dreadful night. I thought _she_ was gone too; she was brought in, insensible, and remained so for hours. She was taken immediately to my house, and put to bed. The body of her brother was also carried there, for I knew she would not be separated from it. I sat beside her, watching her faint breathing, anxious for some sign of returning consciousness, but dreading the agony which must attend it. If she had died, I could hardly have grieved for her; but there might be parents, brothers, and sisters! Oh, that I knew, that I could bring them to her! Alone, among strangers! how was she to bear her solitary grief?--how was she to sustain the struggle which awaited her in the first hour of her awakening? I could not banish the remembrance of them as I had seen them in the afternoon; happy in each other, and thinking not of separation; then, as he was when I last saw him, full of life and acuity, and apparently unboundedly happy, in the contemplation of scenes which a soul like his was fitted to enjoy. Day dawned, and no change was perceivable; but in two hours afterwards she opened her eyes. I crossed the room, to see whether she observed my motion. She did; and I therefore opened the curtain, and spoke to her. She gazed, but did not reply. Presently she seized my arm, muttering some words, of which "my mother!" was all I could understand. I took the opportunity of saying, that I was going to write to her family, and asked how I should address them. "My family!" said she, "I have none. They are all gone now!" I thought her mind was wandering. "Your father and mother," said I, "where are they?" My heart smote me as I uttered the words, but the question was necessary. "I have no father and mother!" "Nor brothers and sisters? Pardon me, but I must ask." "You need not ask, because I will tell you. There were many of us once, but I am the last!" I could not go on, yet it must be done. "But you have friends, who will come to you?" "Yes; I have a grandfather. He lives in Hampshire. He is very old, but he will come to me, if he still lives. If not!"---- "He _will_ come," said I, "I will write to him directly." "I will write myself!" exclaimed she, starting up. "He will not believe the story unless I write myself. Who _would_ believe it?"