house deserted. I have not seen a soul since, till this good man came.
--What will become of us? My mother does not know our state; she is so
ill, that I have hidden it from her.

"Will you not send some one to us? I am sure we must perish miserably as we
are. If I were to try to move my mother now, she would die on the road; and
if, when she gets better, I were able, I cannot guess how, to find out the
roads, and get on so many many miles to the sea, you would all be in
France, and the great ocean would be between us, which is so terrible even
to sailors. What would it be to me, a woman, who never saw it? We should be
imprisoned by it in this country, all, all alone, with no help; better die
where we are. I can hardly write--I cannot stop my tears--it is not for
myself; I could put my trust in God; and let the worst come, I think I
could bear it, if I were alone. But my mother, my sick, my dear, dear
mother, who never, since I was born, spoke a harsh word to me,
who has been patient in many sufferings; pity her, dear Lady,
she must die a miserable death if you do not pity her. People speak
carelessly of her, because she is old and infirm, as if we must not all, if
we are spared, become so; and then, when the young are old themselves, they
will think that they ought to be taken care of. It is very silly of me to
write in this way to you; but, when I hear her trying not to groan, and see
her look smiling on me to comfort me, when I know she is in pain; and when
I think that she does not know the worst, but she soon must; and then she
will not complain; but I shall sit guessing at all that she is dwelling
upon, of famine and misery--I feel as if my heart must break, and I do
not know what I say or do; my mother--mother for whom I have borne much,
God preserve you from this fate! Preserve her, Lady, and He will bless you;
and I, poor miserable creature as I am, will thank you and pray for you
while I live.

"Your unhappy and dutiful servant,

"Dec. 30th, 2097. LUCY MARTIN."

This letter deeply affected Idris, and she instantly proposed, that we
should return to Datchet, to assist Lucy and her mother. I said that I
would without delay set out for that place, but entreated her to join her
brother, and there await my return with the children. But Idris was in high
spirits, and full of hope. She declared that she could not consent even to
a temporary separation from me, but that there was no need of this, the
motion of the