During this employment she shed abundance of tears, and Amabel's efforts to console her only made matters worse.

Poor Patience was forced at last to sit down, and indulge a hearty fit of crying, after which she felt considerably relieved.

As soon as she was sufficiently recovered to be able to speak, she observed to Amabel, "Pardon what I am about to say to you, my dear young mistress, but I cannot help thinking that the real seat of your disease is in the heart." A slight blush overspread Amabel's pale features, but she made no answer.
"I see I am right," continued Patience, "and indeed I have long suspected it.

Let me entreat you, therefore, dear young lady, not to sacrifice yourself.

Only say the word, and I will find means of making your retreat known to the Earl of Rochester.