mined to see her at all events.

'She said it was hard she could not be permitted to die in peace: that
her lot was a severe one: that she began to be afraid she should not
forbear repining, and to think her punishment greater than her fault:
but, recalling herself immediately, she comforted herself, that her life
would be short, and with the assurance of a better.'

By what I have mentioned, you will conclude with me, that the letter
brought her by Mrs. Lovick (the superscription of which you saw to be
written in her sister's hand) could not be the letter on the contents of
which she grounded that she wrote to you, on her return home. And yet
neither Mrs. Lovick, nor Mrs. Smith, nor the servant of the latter, know
of any other brought her. But as the women assured me, that she actually
did write to you, I was eased of a suspicion which I had begun to
entertain, that you (for some purpose I could not guess at) had forged
the letter from her of which you sent me a copy.

On Wednesday morning, when she received your letter, in answer to her's,
she said, Necessity may well be called the mother of invention--but
calamity is the test of integrity.--I hope I have not taken an
inexcusable step--And there she stopt a minute or two; and then said, I
shall now, perhaps, be allowed to die in peace.

I staid till she came in. She was glad to see me; but, being very weak,
said, she must sit down before she could go up stairs: and so went into
the back-shop; leaning upon Mrs. Lovick: and when she had sat down, 'I am
glad to see you, Mr. Belford, said she; I must say so--let mis-reporters
say what they will.'

I wondered at this expression;* but would not interrupt her.

* Explained in Letter XXVIII. of this volume.

O Sir, said she, I have been grievously harassed. Your friend, who would
not let me live with reputation, will not permit me to die in peace. You
see how I am. Is there not a great alteration in me within this week!
but 'tis all for the better. Yet were I to wish for life, I must say
that your friend, your barbarous friend, has hurt me greatly.

She was so weak, so short breathed, and her words and actions so very
moving, that I was forced to walk from her; the two women and her nurse
turning away their faces also, weeping.

I have had, Madam, said I, since I saw you, a most shocking scene before
my eyes for days together. My poor friend Belton is no more. He quitted
the world yesterday morning in su