She was often delirious, and all her wandering thoughts seemed to ramble to heaven.
"I have been a sinner," she said, "but I am safe in the Lord Jesus." When she recovered, she asked me to let her go into the country for a few days, to change the air, and begged me to lend her three dollars.
While she was absent a lady called on me, and enquired, with some agitation, if my servant, Nancy Fletcher, were at home.
I replied that she was gone into the country.

"Thank God," she exclaimed, "never let her enter your doors again, she is the most abandoned woman in the town: a gentleman who knows you, has been told that she lives with you, and that she boasts of having the power of entering your house at any hour of night." She told me many other circumstances, unnecessary to repeat, but all tending to prove that she was a very dangerous inmate.
I expected her home the next evening, and I believe I passed the interval in meditating how to get rid of her without an _eclaircissement_.

At length she arrived, and all my study having failed to supply me with any other reason than the real one for dismissing her, I stated it at once.

Not the slightest change passed over her countenance, but she looked steadily at me, and said, in a very civil tone, "I should like to know who told you." I replied that it could be of no advantage to her to know, and that I wished her to go immediately.

"I am ready to go," she said, in the same quiet tone, "but what will you do for your three dollars ?" "I must do without them, Nancy; good morning to you." "I must just put up my things," she said, and left the room.