"It is all we can do for her," said he.
He looked so grave while writing the supposed prescription, that it unluckily occurred to Mrs.Woffington to look over him.

She stole archly behind him, and, with a smile on her face--read her death warrant.
It was a cruel stroke! A gasping sigh broke from her.

At this Dr.
Bowdler looked up, and to his horror saw the sweet face he had doomed to the tomb looking earnestly and anxiously at him, and very pale and grave.

He was shocked, and, strange to say, she, whose death-warrant he had signed, ran and brought him a glass of wine, for he was quite overcome.

Then she gave him her hand in her own sweet way, and bade him not grieve for her, for she was not afraid to die, and had long learned that "life is a walking shadow, a poor, poor player, who frets and struts his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more." But no sooner was the doctor gone than she wept bitterly.