She kept her bed; her room darkened, her face turned towards the wall, whenever any one besides Medlicott was in the room.

She hardly ever spoke, and would have died of starvation but for Medlicott's tender care, in putting a morsel to her lips every now and then, feeding her, in fact, just as an old bird feeds her young ones.

In the height of summer my lord and I left London.

We would fain have taken her with us into Scotland, but the doctor (we had the old doctor from Leicester Square) forbade her removal; and this time he gave such good reasons against it that I acquiesced.

Medlicott and a maid were left with her.