the hall
was both useless and irksome--a source of misery to all.

My father ordered his horses the next morning, and I was carried back to
London, more dead than alive. A burning fever raged in my blood; and
the moment I reached my father's house, I was put to bed, and placed
under the care of a physician, with nurses to watch me night and day.
For three weeks I was in a state of delirium; and when I regained my
senses, it was only to renew the anguish which had caused my disorder,
and I felt any sentiment except gratitude for my recovery.

My dear Clara had never quitted me during my confinement. I had taken
no medicine but from her hand. I asked her to give me some account of
what had happened. She told me that Talbot was gone; that my father had
seen Mr Somerville, who had informed him that Emily had received a long
letter from Eugenia, narrating every circumstance, exculpating me, and
accusing herself. Emily had wept over it, but still remained firm in
her resolution never to see me more. "And I am afraid, my dear
brother," said Clara, "that her resolution will not be very easily
altered. You know her character, and you should know something about
our sex: but sailors, they say, go round the world without going into
it. This is the only shadow of an excuse I can form for you, much as I
love and esteem you. You have hurt Emily in the nicest point, that in
which we are all the most susceptible of injury. You have wounded her
pride, which our sex rarely if ever forgive. At the very moment she
supposed you were devoted to her; that you were rapt up in the
anticipation of calling her your own, and counting the minutes with
impatience until the happy day arrived; with all this persuasion on her
mind, she comes upon you, as the traveller out of the wood suddenly
comes across the poisonous snake in his path, and cannot avoid it. She
found you locked hand-in-hand with another, a fortnight before marriage,
and with the fruits of unlawful love in your arms. What woman could
forgive this? I would not, I assure you. If Tal---, I mean if any man
were to serve me so, I would tear him from my heart, even if the
dissolution of the whole frame was to be the certain consequence. I
consider it a kindness to tell you, Frank, that you have no hope. Much
as you have and will suffer, she, poor girl, will suffer more; and
although she will never accept you, she will not let your place be
supplied by another, but sink brok