what's here?

Mrs. Smith standing next him, Why, said he, with great emotion, is my
cousin suffered to indulge her sad reflections with such an object before
her?

Alas! Sir, replied the good woman, who should controul her? We are all
strangers about her, in a manner: and yet we have expostulated with her
upon this sad occasion.

I ought, said I, (stepping softly up to him, the lady again falling into
a doze,) to have apprized you of this. I was here when it was brought
in, and never was so shocked in my life. But she had none of her friends
about her, and no reason to hope for any of them to come near her; and,
assured she should not recover, she was resolved to leave as little as
possible, especially as to what related to her person, to her executor.
But it is not a shocking object to her, though it be to every body else.

Curse upon the hard-heartedness of those, said he, who occasioned her to
make so sad a provision for herself!--What must her reflections have been
all the time she was thinking of it, and giving orders about it? And
what must they be every time she turns her head towards it? These
uncommon genius's--but indeed she should have been controuled in it, had
I been here.

The lady fetched a profound sigh, and, starting, it broke off our talk;
and the Colonel then withdrew farther behind the screen, that his sudden
appearance might not surprise her.

Where am I?--said she. How drowsy I am! How long have I dozed? Don't
go, Sir, (for I was retiring,) I am very stupid, and shall be more and
more so, I suppose.

She then offered to raise herself; but being ready to faint through
weakness, was forced to sit down again, reclining her head on her chair
back; and, after a few moments, I believe now, my good friends, said she,
all your kind trouble will soon be over. I have slept, but am not
refreshed, and my fingers' ends seem numbed--have no feeling! (holding
them up,)--'tis time to send the letter to my good Norton.

Shall I, Madam, send my servant post with it?

O no, Sir, I thank you. It will reach the dear woman too soon, (as she
will think,) by the post.

I told her this was not post-day.

Is it Wednesday still, said she; bless me! I know not how the time goes
--but very tediously, 'tis plain. And now I think I must soon take to my
bed. All will be most conveniently, and with least trouble, over there--
will it not, Mrs. Lovick?--I think, Sir, turning to me, I have left
nothing to