“Oh, my poor dear child!—­my dear Ada!—­My God! could I have but seen her—­give her my blessing—­and my dear sister Augusta, and her children—­and you will go to Lady Byron and say—­tell her everything--you are friends with her.”

He appeared to be greatly affected at this moment.  His voice failed, and only words could be caught at intervals; but he kept muttering something very seriously for some time, and after raising his voice, said,

“Fletcher, now if you do not execute every order which I have given you, I will torment you hereafter, if possible.”

This little speech is the last characteristic expression which escaped from the dying man.  He knew Fletcher’s superstitious tendency, and it cannot be questioned that the threat was the last feeble flash of his prankfulness.  The faithful valet replied in consternation that he had not understood one word of what his Lordship had been saying.

“Oh! my God!” was the reply, “then all is lost, for it is now too late!  Can it be possible you have not understood me!”

“No, my Lord; but I pray you to try and inform me once more.”

“How can I? it is now too late, and all is over.”

“Not our will, but God’s be done,” said Fletcher, and his Lordship made another effort, saying,

“Yes, not mine be done—­but I will try”—­and he made several attempts to speak, but could only repeat two or three words at a time; such as,

“My wife! my child—­my sister—­you know all—­you must say all—­you know my wishes”——­The rest was unintelligible.

A consultation with three other doctors, in addition to the two physicians in regular attendance, was now held; and they appeared to think the disease was changing from inflammatory diathesis to languid, and ordered stimulants to be administered.  Dr Bruno opposed this with the greatest warmth; and pointed out that the symptoms were those, not of an alteration in the disease, but of a fever flying to the brain, which was violently attacked by it; and, that the stimulants they proposed would kill more speedily than the disease itself.  While, on the other hand, by copious bleeding, and the medicines that had been taken before, he might still be saved.  The other physicians, however, were of a different opinion; and then Dr Bruno declared he would risk no farther responsibility.  Peruvian bark and wine were then administered.  After taking these stimulants, his Lordship expressed a wish to sleep.  His last words were, “I must sleep now”; and he composed himself accordingly, but never awoke again.

For four-and-twenty hours he continued in a state of lethargy, with the rattles occasionally in his throat.  At six o’clock in the morning of the 19th, Fletcher, who was watching by his bed-side, saw him open his eyes and then shut them, apparently without pain or moving hand or foot.  “My God!” exclaimed the faithful valet, “I fear his Lordship is gone.”  The doctors felt his pulse—­it was so.