"Oh, dear me!--I shall never survive it--I shall die." "Not while I am left to supply his place," cried Pillichody, catching her in his arms.
"You!" cried Patience, contemptuously; "I would not have you for the world.

Where is he buried ?" "In the plague-pit," replied Pillichody.

"I attended him during his illness.

It was his second attack of the disorder.

He spoke of you." "Did he ?--dear little fellow!" she exclaimed.