During the first week after his arrival he began to mend; and all indulged a hope of his speedy recovery; but disease had taken too deep root in his constitution to be suddenly eradicated; and within a fortnight the fever returned with increasing violence, setting at defiance the skill of the physician, who confessed that his life was in the most imminent danger. He now took to his bed, and said to a young friend who called to see him: "I shall never leave this room till I am carried out by the ministers of death." On the following Sabbath, his mother ventured to ask him how he felt in prospect of death. This question agitated him. He became restless, a sullen gloom was thrown over his countenance, and he remained silent. This silence inflicted a deeper wound in her tender bosom than the most piercing cries of mental anguish; and though she endeavoured to conceal her grief, yet she was unable to do so. "O, George, do tell me. When I lost your father, I had the consolation of knowing that he was gone to heaven; and your dear departed sister said, just before she left me, 'Weep not for me, for I shall soon see the King in his beauty;' and will _you die_ without allowing me to indulge the hope of meeting you in heaven?" [Illustration: DRAWN BY G. H. THOMAS. ENGRAVED BY W. L. THOMAS. RETURN OF THE WIDOW'S SON. Vol. i. page 23.] "My dear mother, I have deceived you once, but deception is now at an end; I have 'trampled under foot the blood of the covenant,' and that blood is now crying for vengeance against me. I know my doom; and, however painful it may be to your feelings to see your own child lingering out the few remaining days of his life, without one cheering hope, yet I _do_ request that you will not embitter my last hours by making any allusions to heaven." "O, George, my child!" "O, my mother, I am undone!" As his mind was in such a perturbed state, Mrs. Lewellin thought it prudent to turn the current of conversation; and, after listening to a detailed account of his course of life when in London, she retired to try the efficacy of prayer. In the evening a pious young friend called to see him, to whom he said, "I will thank you to remove that Bible out of my sight, for its very presence agonizes me. Such a book ought not to lie near such a wretch as I am. It is like compelling the criminal to ride on his own coffin to the place of execution." "But, my dear Sir, that holy book contains a revelation of mercy and grace to sinners, and offers salvation to the chief." "I know all that, and therefore I wish it removed; for I have made sport with the revelation of mercy." "But the Lord waits to be gracious." "No; he is now laughing at my calamity; and soon the curtain of life will drop, and then his injured justice will be glorified in my condemnation. Give me a draught of water."