Not a moment was lost in executing the order, and on Fletcher informing the doctors what he had done, they said it was right, as they now began to be afraid themselves. “Have you sent?” said his Lordship, when Fletcher returned to him.—“I have, my Lord.”
“You have done well, for I should like to know what is the matter with me.”
From that time his Lordship grew every hour weaker and weaker; and he had occasional flights of delirium. In the intervals he was, however, quite self-possessed, and said to Fletcher, “I now begin to think I am seriously ill; and in case I should be taken off suddenly, I wish to give you several directions, which I hope you will be particular in seeing executed.” Fletcher in reply expressed his hope that he would live many years, and execute them himself. “No, it is now nearly over; I must tell you all without losing a moment.”
“Shall I go, my Lord, and fetch pen, ink, and paper.
“Oh, my God! no, you will lose too much time, and I have it not to spare, for my time is now short. Now pay attention—you will be provided for.”
“I beseech you, my Lord, to proceed with things of more consequence.”
His Lordship then added,
“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.”