She said then that she was entirely ignorant of the effects of the powder.
She said that she did not know it to be poison till she had seen its effects.
Let me ask you, Dr. Addington, this single question, whether the horrors and agonies which Miss Blandy was in at this time were not, in your opinion, owing solely to a hearty concern for her father?—I beg, sir, that you will excuse my giving an answer to this question. It is not easy, you know, to form a true judgment of the heart, and I hope a witness need not deliver his opinion of it.
I do not speak of the heart; you are only desired to say whether those agitations of body and mind which Miss Blandy showed at this time did not seem to you to arise entirely from a tender concern for her father?—Since you oblige me, sir, to speak to this particular, I must say that all the agitation of body and mind which Miss Blandy showed at this time, or any other, when I was with her, seemed to me to arise more from the apprehension of unhappy consequences to herself than from a tender and hearty concern for her father.
Did you never, then, observe in her any evident tokens of grief for her father?—I never thought I did.
Did she never wish for his recovery?—Often.
Did not you think that those wishes implied a concern for him?—I did not, because I had before told her that if he died soon she would inevitably be ruined.
When did you tell her this?—On Sunday morning, the 11th August, just before I left Henley.
Did not she desire you that morning, before you quitted his room, to visit him again the next day?—Yes.
And was she not very solicitous that you should do him all the service in your power?—I cannot say that I discovered any solicitude in her on this score till Monday night, the 12th August, after she was confined, and her keys and other things had been taken from her.