In the mean time, Sir Henry and Mr. Talton travelled with the utmost expedition to Llaugharne, and, crossing the Channel, proceeded towards the ancient seat of Lady Corbet. They were received by Mrs. Brown, the tenant's wife, who informed them the surgeon's fears were verified; a mortification had commenced, and Lady Corbet, at last sensible of her danger, had, that morning, desired Sir Henry and Louise might be sent for. Though prepared for this intelligence, Sir Henry was still affected on receiving it; he, however, struggled with his feelings, and requested she would inform his mother of his arrival, and his wish to see her, if her spirits were equal to the interview. She soon returned, and conducted him to her apartment. The surgeon and a female attendant were stationed by the bed, on which, supported by pillows, was extended the still beautiful Lady Corbet. The fever's hectic glow had succeeded the light bloom of health on her cheek; and the wild lustre of her eye plainly showed reason retained not its full powers. Sir Henry sprung to embrace her, and in a voice softened by tenderness and grief, breathed a prayer for the continuance of her existence. "I little thought, Harry," she said, after an internal struggle, "ever to have beholden you again: but retributive justice has overtaken me, and I must submit to my fate!--But where is Louise?" she impatiently continued. "Does she despise the sufferings of a mother; or didst thou enviously wish to deprive her of a blessing?" "Ah, my mother," answered Sir Henry, "stab not my heart by such a supposition;--in a few hours Louise will be here." "And in a few hours," repeated Lady Corbet, with energy, "I may be numbered with the dead!" "I do not apprehend your dissolution so soon as that," said the surgeon; "although I thought it my duty to tell you there are no longer any hopes of your recovery. Yet I would wish you not to increase your fever by too much exertion in speaking." "Peace, dotard!" exclaimed Lady Corbet, angrily. "Without thou couldest bid me live!--But no--no--I must die: there are indeed no hopes for me!--Let me see Talton--they told me he was here." Her attendant hastened to desire his presence, and the surgeon renewing his request that she might be kept quiet, and as composed as possible, retired; promising to return in the evening. Mr. Talton obeyed the summons. On his approach, Lady Corbet said: "Thou art come then to behold her, who would have injured thee to the utmost--had it been in her power! Rejoice then in my fall--exult over my ashes--and, in the torments I now endure, be fully revenged!" "Far be revenge from my heart," replied Talton: "to pity and relieve are its dictates; but never to triumph over the fallen or afflicted!"