Jackson, while busied about her household affairs in
the kitchen of the hermitage, suddenly shrieked, placed her hands upon
her heart, sank upon a chair, and fell forward into the arms of one of
her servants. She was carried to her bed, where, for the space of sixty
hours, she suffered extreme agony, during the whole of which her husband
never left her side for ten minutes. Then she appeared much better, and
recovered the use of her tongue. This was only two days before the day
of the festival, and the first use she made of her recovered speech was
to implore her husband to go to another room and sleep, so as to recruit
his strength for the banquet. He would not leave her, however, but lay
down upon a sofa and slept a little. The evening of the 22d she appeared
to be so much better that the general consented, after much persuasion,
to sleep in the next room, and leave his wife in the care of the doctor
and two of his most trusted servants.
At nine o'clock he bade her good-night, went to the next room, and took
off his coat, preparatory to lying down. When he had been gone five
minutes from her room, Mrs. Jackson, who was sitting up, suddenly gave a
long, loud, inarticulate cry, which was immediately followed by the
death rattle in her throat. By the time her husband had reached her
side, she had breathed her last.
"Bleed her," cried the general.
But no blood flowed from her arm.
"Try the temple," doctor.
A drop or two of blood stained her cap, but no more followed.
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