ng to say. I sat thinking about it, when he
awoke and held out his hand for me to take my usual station by his
bedside. I went and told him. We talked some time on the subject. He
was not agitated, but his voice faltered a little, and he said it was
sudden. This was the first day he felt well enough to begin to hope he
should recover! He breathed freely, and was entirely free from pain;
and he said he had been thinking if he could be removed to Brussels,
he should get well soon.

I then asked if he had anything to desire me to do, or anything to say
to anyone. He reminded me of what he had told me had engrossed his
thoughts when he imagined himself dying on the field. He said he felt
exactly the same now. He felt at peace with all the world; he knew he
was going to a better one, etc., etc. He repeated most of what he had
told me were his feelings before--that he had no sorrow but to part
from his wife, no regret but leaving her in misery.

He seemed fatigued; and shutting his eyes, he desired me not to speak
for a little. I then determined not to introduce the subject again,
nor to speak about it unless he seemed to wish it, as I had done all
that was necessary.

In an hour or two he ate some breakfast, tea and toasted bread, with
so much relish that it almost overcame me. He observed that I must
have caught cold by sitting in a draught of air. I said I had. He felt
so much better that I was anxious the surgeon should see him. He came
in the evening. He was pleased to see Sir William free from pain, but
said there was scarcely a possibility of its continuing so. He said he
might linger a day or two, but that every symptom was bad. He advised
me to keep him as quiet and composed as possible. I assured him no
person had been in the room but the surgeons whom he had brought to
consult; and I had sat beside him the whole day, scarcely speaking. I
said I had told Sir William his opinion of his case. He said it had
evidently not agitated him, for his pulse was quite calm. Mr Woolriche
called in the afternoon; he was going to Brussels, and would do
anything there we wished. We had nothing for him to do, and he was
going when he repeated the question. Sir William looked at me
earnestly, and said, "Magdalene, love, General Dundas." I answered,
"I wrote to him this morning," and nothing more passed.

Late in the evening, when we were as calm and composed as could be,
and I was sitting and looking at him, and holding his hand