ABSTRACT
I gently drew back the curtain, and, with a degree of consternation which no language can describe, beheld Amelia Woodford pale and entirely senseless! Her eyes were closed; her cheek had lost that beautiful and healthful roundness which exhibited the freshness of youth, when a few weeks back I had beheld her the pride of her family, and the admiration of the fashionable world. She appeared at least ten years older, and so unlike her former self, that had not every feature been indelibly impressed upon my mind, I should not have known her. I touched her arm which lay across her bosom; it was as cold as marble; her lips were colourless; she scarcely breathed, and my distress was terrible. I was at a loss to decide, in my own mind, whether she was only in a state of suspended sensation, owing to the fright she had experienced, or absolutely expiring. In either case, I deemed myself accessary to her peril, and throwing myself on my knees near her pillow, gave way to the most distracted self-reproaches.
