Early in that month Wainewright left the
house with the leaf-stripped trees, the very
unhealthy house, and took furnished lodgings at
Mr. Nicoll's, a tailor, in Conduit-street, to which
he went accompanied by his wife, his child, and
those two beautiful affectionate girls, his half-
sisters, Phoebe and Madeleine Abercrombie.
Books, sabre, elegant French lamp, portfolios,
and desk with the mysterious little eccentric
drawer with the especial salt for filberts.

There was still a little more law business for
Phoebe; the artistic mind remarked one morning
in his playful, delightful way. " Would the dear
girl be kind enough to keep in profile for one
moment? Exquisite! Yes, there was a will to be
made to benefit dear Madeleine in case of any
unforeseen circumstance." Phoebe no doubt
carolled out a laugh, and expressed a horror "of
those dusty old lawyers." On that same day,
the 13th, Miss Abercrombie called on a
solicitor named Lys, to whom she was a stranger,
to attest the execution of a will she desired to
make, as she was going abroad; he complied,
and she executed a will in favour of her sister
Madeleine, making Mr. Wainewright its
executor. On the fourteenth, having obtained a
deed of assignment from the office of the Palladium,
she called on another solicitor named
Kirk, to whom she was also a stranger, to
perfect for her an assignment of the policy of that
office to Mr. Wainewright. This the solicitor
did by writing in ink over words pencilled by Mr.
Wainewright, and witnessing her signature.

That same evening (as a reward, perhaps) the
two sisters went to the play, as they had done
the evening before, accompanying their kind
relations, Mr. and Mrs. Wainewright. Whatever
bailiffs may be watching the gay and volatile
creature in the befrogged coat, he has no idea
of stinting his amusements. Providence is hard
on your delightful and fashionable men, who
earn little and spend much.

The play is delightful, the pathos pierces, the
farce convulses the pleasant party of four.
After the play they have an oyster supper, and
Mr. Wainewright is gayer and wittier than ever.
In the night, however, Miss Phoebe is taken ill,
evidently having caught cold from walking
home that long way from Drury-lane or Covent-
garden two nights in the wet and wind. There
is great regret in the house, and frequent kind
inquiries at her door from Mr. Wainewright.
She gets up to dinner, but in a day or two, the cold
not lifting, Dr. Locock is sent for. Mrs. Wainewright
and Madeleine are with her constantly.
Mr. Wainewright, who is clever in these things,
as in everything else, prescribes her a black
draught before the doctor is sent for. The doctor
is kind and sympathising, thinks little of the
slight derangement, and prescribes the simplest
remedies. On the seventh day of her indisposition,
Mr. Wainewright, impatient of the doctor's
remedies, prescribed her a powder, which she
took willingly in jelly. She was decidedly better,
and was no longer wandering; she was so much
better, in fact, that Mr. Wainewright, great in
spirits, and full of sentiment, sympathy, and
artistic feeling, told his wife to put on her bonnet,
and come for a walk sketching, while dear Phoebe
had some sleep. That was about twelve o'clock.
At two, Phoebe was taken violently ill with
convulsions. She appeared in great, agony, became
delirious, and struggled violently. Dr. Locock,
who had been previously consulted about
insurance certificates, was instantly sent for, and
came. The fit had then subsided, but there
was pressure on the brain. She said, " Oh,
doctor! l am dying. These are the pains of
death. I feel I am. I am sure so!" The doctor
said, " You'll be better by-and-by." She cried,
"My poor mother; oh! my poor mother!"
Dr. Locock left, and she had a fit, and grasped
the hand of one of the servants. When Dr.
Locock left, she lay quiet, and said she thought
she heard a little boy coming along the room,
and that he ought not to be there, and she
burst into tears and convulsions.

A servant who had lived twenty years with
Dr. Griffiths, and had known Mr. Wainewright
since he was a child, instantly sent for Messrs.
King and Nicholson, apothecaries. A Mr. Hanks
came and saw Miss Abercrombie in the convulsion
fit. She had said to Dr. Locock, " Doctor,
I was gone to heaven, but you have brought me
back to earth." Hanks gave her some medicine
while Dr. Locock was there. The convulsions
got better, and the doctors went away. Soon
after they were gone, the convulsions came on
again, and at four o'clock she died.

Who can paint the horror and agony of Mr.
and Mrs. Wainewright when they returned aud
found the beautiful girl, with the exquisite
profile, only a day or two ago so bright and full of
life, so arch, so graceful dead.

Dr. Locock leaving the house in which he
was now useless, with a sad face and heart,
met Mr. Wainewright returning gay and
light-hearted, perhaps humming a fashionable
tune. He appeared much shocked and
astonished at the sad news, and asked what was the
cause of death. Dr. Locock replied, " Mischief
in the brain," and proposed to examine the head,
to which Wainewright immediately assented.
On the next day the skull was opened by Hanks,
and they found what witness believed was a quite
sufficient cause of death— a considerable quantity
of water on the lower part of the brain,
pressing upon the upper part of the spinal marrow.
Witness thought the effusion caused the
convulsion, and that the convulsion caused death.
Oysters had often produced similar effects upon
irritable constitutions. Wet feet had perhaps
rendered the constitution weak and susceptible.

There was a further examination two days
afterwards. The contents of the stomach were
minutely examined. There was no appearance
of anything sufficient to account for death,
except water at the base of the brain. There
were a few points in which the blood-vessels
were much more injected with blood than usual,
an appearance often seen in those who die
suddenly. Violent vomiting would account for
this. The doctors observed a few little specks
on the coat of the stomach, but that was all.