rster
from her severe attack. As it may be presumed, he found her perfectly
rational; but still he had no doubt of the assertions of his keepers,
that she was insane at the time that she was sent to the asylum by Mr
Ramsden. The latter gentleman kept aloof until the issue of Mrs
Forster's malady should be ascertained: if she recovered, it was his
intention to call upon Doctor Beddington and explain the circumstances;
if she died, he had determined to say nothing about it. Mrs Forster's
recovery was tedious; her mind was loaded with anxiety, and, what was
infinitely more important, with deep remorse. The supposed death of Mr
Spinney had been occasioned by her violence, and she looked forward with
alarm, as great as the regret with which she looked back upon her former
behaviour. When she called to mind her unfeeling conduct towards her
husband--the many years of bitterness she had created for him, her
infraction of the marriage vow--the solemn promise before God to love,
honour, and obey, daily and hourly violated,--her unjust hatred of her
only son,--her want of charity towards others,--all her duties
neglected,--swayed only by selfish and malignant passions,--with bitter
tears of contrition and self-abasement, she acknowledged that her
punishment was just. With streaming eyes, with supplicating hands and
bended knees, she implored mercy and forgiveness of Him, to whom appeal
is never made in vain. Passion's infuriate reign was over--her heart
was changed!

To Doctor Beddington she made neither complaint nor explanation. All
she wished was to quit the asylum as soon as she was restored to health,
and prove to her husband, by her future conduct, the sincerity of her
reformation. When she became convalescent, by the advice of Doctor
Beddington, she walked in a garden appropriated for the exercise of the
more harmless inmates of the asylum. The first day that he went out she
sat down upon a bench near to the keepers, who were watching those who
were permitted to take the air and exercise, and overheard their
discourse, which referred to herself.

"Why, what was it as made her mad--d'ye know, Tom?"

"They say she's been no better all her life," replied the other; "a rat
would not live in the house with her: at last, in one of her tantrums,
she nearly murdered old Spinney, the clerk at Overton. The report went
out that he was dead; and conscience, I suppose, or summut of that kind,
run away with her senses."