smother habitual
pain. One night, as we two sat with her (Mr. Miles was weaned by this
time, and his mother could leave him to the charge of our faithful
Molly), she fell asleep over her cards. We hushed the servants who came
to lay out the supper-table (she would always have this luxurious, nor
could any injunction of ours or the Doctor's teach her abstinence), and
we sat a while as we had often done before, waiting in silence till she
should arouse from her doze.

When she awoke, she looked fixedly at me for a while, fumbled with the
cards, and dropt them again in her lap, and said, "Henry, have I been
long asleep?" I thought at first that it was for my brother she mistook
me; but she went on quickly, and with eyes fixed as upon some very far
distant object, and said, "My dear, 'tis of no use, I am not good enough
for you. I love cards, and play, and court; and oh, Harry, you don't
know all!" Here her voice changed, and she flung her head up. "His
father married Anne Hyde, and sure the Esmond blood is as good as any
that's not royal. Mamma, you must please to treat me with more respect.
Vos sermons me fatiguent; entendez-vous?--faites place a mon Altesse
royale: mesdames, me connaissez-vous? je suis la----" Here she broke out
into frightful hysterical shrieks and laughter, and as we ran up to her,
alarmed, "Oui, Henri," she says, "il a jure de m'epouser et les princes
tiennent parole--n'est-ce pas? O oui! ils tiennent parole; si non, tu le
tueras, cousin; tu le--ah! que je suis folle!" And the pitiful shrieks
and laughter recommenced. Ere her frightened people had come up to her
summons, the poor thing had passed out of this mood into another; but
always labouring under the same delusion--that I was the Henry of past
times, who had loved her and had been forsaken by her, whose bones were
lying far away by the banks of the Potomac.

My wife and the women put the poor lady to bed as I ran myself for
medical aid. She rambled, still talking wildly, through the night, with
her nurses and the surgeon sitting by her. Then she fell into a sleep,
brought on by more opiate. When she awoke, her mind did not actually
wander; but her speech was changed, and one arm and side were paralysed.

'Tis needless to relate the progress and termination of her malady, or
watch that expiring flame of life as it gasps and flickers. Her senses
would remain with her for a while (and then she was never satisfied
unless Theo was by her bedside)