was tolerably well, both in health and spirits, but hourly in expectation of an event which might affect both.
"Near three weeks after this letter we received two; one from the Count, informing the Marquis, that, to his expressible grief, he had lost both wife and child; the other from the medical gentleman who attended her informing me of the same event, and that my sister, in her last moments, requested he would write to express her affection and wishes for my happiness with her departing breath.
"Though I had always apprehended this event, yet it caused me inexpressible misery; and there being no longer any ties to bind us to that detested Count, we never answered or took any further notice of him.
"About six weeks after the dreadful information we had received, a letter came to me, directed in an unknown hand; I opened it—judge what were my emotions in reading these words, deeply impressed upon my memory.
"Your sister lives, though dead to all the world but you; a solemn vow has passed her lips, never to disclose preceding events without permission—ask no questions, and you shall soon hear more, but more than one life depends upon your secresy.
"I flew to the Marquis with this billet; he was equally surprised and overjoyed, but naturally concluded we might have spies upon us, and that therefore we had better continue our mourning the usual time.
"It was upwards of a fortnight before I heard again, and I grew very impatient; at length I had another letter; this informed me she was confined, that she had reason to hope her child (a boy) was alive. Under that hope she lived; and, notwithstanding her confinement, was better in health than when I saw her last. I might write a few lines now
