ndeed, Sir, the very
recollection of this affecting scene has left me nearly as unable to
proceed, as I was, just after it, to converse with my cousins. I am,
Sir, with great truth,

Your most obedient humble servant,
WILLIAM MORDEN.

LETTER XXIX

COLONEL MORDEN
[IN CONTINUATION.]
TUESDAY MORNING, SEPT. 12.

The good Mrs. Norton is arrived, a little amended in her spirits; owing
to the very posthumous letters, as I may call them, which you, Mr.
Belford, as well as I, apprehended would have had fatal effects upon her.

I cannot but attribute this to the right turn of her mind. It seems she
has been inured to afflictions; and has lived in a constant hope of a
better life; and, having no acts of unkindness to the dear deceased to
reproach herself with, is most considerately resolved to exert her utmost
fortitude in order to comfort the sorrowing mother.

O Mr. Belford, how does the character of my dear departed cousin rise
upon me from every mouth!--Had she been my own child, or my sister!--But
do you think that the man who occasioned this great, this extended ruin--
But I forbear.

The will is not to be looked into, till the funeral rites are performed.
Preparations are making for the solemnity; and the servants, as well as
principals of all the branches of the family, are put into close
mourning.

I have seen Mr. Melvill. He is a serious and sensible man. I have given
him particulars to go upon in the discourse he is to pronounce at the
funeral; but had the less need to do this, as I find he is extremely well
acquainted with the whole unhappy story; and was a personal admirer of my
dear cousin, and a sincere lamenter of her misfortunes and death. The
reverend Dr. Lewen, who is but very lately dead, was his particular
friend, and had once intended to recommend him to her favour and notice.

***

I am just returned from attending the afflicted parents, in an effort
they made to see the corpse of their beloved child. They had requested
my company, and that of the good Mrs. Norton. A last leave, the mother
said, she must take.

An effort, however, it was, and no more. The moment they came in sight
of the coffin, before the lid could be put aside, O my dear, said the
father, retreating, I cannot, I find I cannot bear it!--Had I--had I--had
I never been hard-hearted!--Then, turning round to his lady, he had but
just time to catch her in his arms, and prevent her sinking on the floor.
--O, my