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Notwithstanding all their care, the wretched Fathom still remained insensible, and the doctor pronounced a very unfavourable prognostic, while he ordered a pair of additional vesicatories to be laid upon his arms, and other proper medicines to be administered. After dinner, the ladies ventured to visit the place, and when Serafina crossed the threshold, the weeping female fell at her feet, and, kissing her robe, exclaimed, “Sure you are an angel from heaven.”

The alteration in her dress had made a very agreeable change in her appearance, so that the Countess could now look upon her without shuddering at her distress. And, as Fathom was not in a condition to be disturbed, she took this opportunity of inquiring by what steps that unfortunate wretch was conveyed from the prison, in which she knew he had been confined, to the place where he now lay in such extremity; and by what occurrence he had found a wife in such an abyss of misfortune. Here the other’s tears began to flow afresh. “I am ashamed,” said she, “to reveal my own folly; yet I dare not refuse a satisfaction of this kind to a person who has laid me under such signal obligations.”

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