Kitabı oku: «Old Saint Paul's: A Tale of the Plague and the Fire», sayfa 31
"I am satisfied," she replied.
Taking her hand, the earl then led her to a carriage, which conveyed them to Saint Saviour's. Just as they alighted, the dead-cart passed, and several bodies were brought towards it. Eager to withdraw her attention from the spectacle, Rochester hurried her into the old and beautiful church. In another moment they were joined by Etherege and Pillichody, and they proceeded to the altar, where the priest, a young man, was standing. The ceremony was then performed, and the earl led his bride back to the carriage. On their return they had to undergo another ill-omened interruption. The dead-cart was stationed near the gateway, and some delay occurred before it could be moved forward.
Amabel, however, suffered no further misgiving to take possession of her. Deeming herself wedded to the earl, she put no constraint on her affection for him, and her happiness, though short-lived, was deep and full. A month passed away like a dream of delight. Nothing occurred in the slightest degree to mar her felicity. Rochester seemed only to live for her—to think only of her. At the end of this time, some indifference began to manifest itself in his deportment to her, and he evinced a disposition to return to the court and to its pleasures.
"I thought you had for ever abandoned them, my dear lord," said Amabel, reproachfully.
"For awhile I have," he replied, carelessly.
"You must leave me, if you return to them," she rejoined.
"If I must, I must," said the earl.
"You cannot mean this, my lord," she cried, bursting into tears. "You cannot be so changed."
"I have never changed since you first knew me," replied Rochester.
"Impossible!" she cried, in a tone of anguish; "you have not the faults—the vices, you once had."
"I know not what you call faults and vices, madam," replied the earl sharply, "but I have the same qualities as heretofore.
"Am I to understand, then," cried Amabel, a fearful suspicion of the truth breaking upon her, "that you never sincerely repented your former actions?"
"You are to understand it," replied Rochester.
"And you deceived me when you affirmed the contrary?"
"I deceived you," he replied.
"I begin to suspect," she cried, with a look of horror and doubt, "that the attack of the plague was feigned."
"You are not far wide of the truth," was the reply.
"And our marriage?" she cried—"our marriage? Was that feigned likewise?"
"It was," replied Rochester, calmly.
Amabel looked at him fixedly for a few minutes, as if she could not credit his assertion, and then receiving no contradiction, uttered a wild scream, and rushed out of the room. Rochester followed, and saw her dart with lightning swiftness across the court-yard. On gaining the street, he perceived her flying figure already at some distance; and greatly alarmed, started in pursuit. The unfortunate girl was not allowed to proceed far. Two persons who were approaching, and who proved to be Etherege and Pillichody, caught hold of her, and detained her till Rochester came up. When the latter attempted to touch her, she uttered such fearful shrieks, that Etherege entreated him to desist. With some difficulty she was taken back to the house. But it was evident that the shock had unsettled her reason. She alternately uttered wild, piercing screams, or broke into hysterical laughter. The earl's presence so much increased her frenzy, that he gladly withdrew.
"This is a melancholy business, my lord," observed Etherege, as they quitted the room together, "and I am sorry for my share in it. We have both much to answer for."
"Do you think her life in danger?" rejoined Rochester.
"It would be well if it were so," returned the other; "but I fear she will live to be a perpetual memento to you of the crime you have committed."
Amabel's delirium produced a high fever, which continued for three days. Her screams were at times so dreadful, that her betrayer shut himself up in the furthest part of the house, that he might not hear them. When at last she sank into a sleep like that of death, produced by powerful opiates, he stole into the room, and gazed at her with feelings which those who watched his countenance did not envy. It was hoped by the chirurgeon in attendance, that when the violence of the fever abated, Amabel's reason would be restored. But it was not so. Her faculties were completely shaken, and the cause of her affliction being effaced from her memory, she now spoke of the Earl of Rochester with her former affection.
Her betrayer once ventured into her presence, but he did not repeat the visit. Her looks and her tenderness were more than even his firmness could bear, and he hurried away to hide his emotion from the attendants. Several days passed on, and as no improvement took place, the earl, who began to find the stings of conscience too sharp for further endurance, resolved to try to deaden the pangs by again plunging into the dissipation of the court. Prudence had been seized by the plague, and removed to the pest-house, and not knowing to whom to entrust Amabel, it at last occurred to him that Judith Malmayns would be a fitting person, and he accordingly sent for her from Saint Paul's, and communicated his wishes to her, offering her a considerable reward for the service. Judith readily undertook the office, and the earl delayed his departure for two days, to see how all went on; and finding the arrangements, to all appearances, answer perfectly, he departed with Etherege and Pillichody.
Ever since the communication of the fatal truth had been made to her by the earl, his unfortunate victim had occupied the large oak-panelled chamber, on entering which so sad a presentiment had seized her; and she had never quitted the bed where she thought she would breathe her last. On the night of Rochester's departure she made many inquiries concerning him from Judith Malmayns, who was seated in an old broad-cushioned, velvet-covered chair, beside her, and was told that the king required his attendance at Oxford, but that he would soon return. At this answer the tears gathered thickly in Amabel's dark eyelashes, and she remained silent. By-and-by she resumed the conversation.
"Do you know, nurse," she said, with a look of extreme anxiety, "I have forgotten my prayers. Repeat them to me, and I will say them after you."
"My memory is as bad as your ladyship's," replied Judith, contemptuously. "It is so long since I said mine, that I have quite forgotten them."
"That is wrong in you," returned Amabel, "very wrong. When I lived with my dear father, we had prayers morning and evening, and I was never so happy as then. I feel it would do me good if I could pray as I used to do."
"Well, well, all in good time," replied Judith. "As soon as you are better, you shall go back to your father, and then you can do as you please."
"No, no, I cannot go back to him," returned Amabel. "I am the Earl of Rochester's wife—his wedded wife. Am I not Countess of Rochester?"
"To be sure you are," replied Judith—"to be sure."
"I sometimes think otherwise," rejoined Amabel, mournfully.
"And so my dear lord is gone to Oxford?"
"He is," returned Judith, "but he will be back soon. And now," she added, with some impatience, "you have talked quite long enough. You must take your composing draught, and go to sleep."
With this she arose, and stepping to the table which stood by the side of the bed, filled a wine-glass with the contents of a silver flagon, and gave it to her. Amabel drank the mixture, and complaining of its nauseous taste, Judith handed her a plate of fruit from the table to remove it. Soon after this she dropped asleep, when the nurse arose, and taking a light from the table, cautiously possessed herself of a bunch of keys which were placed in a small pocket over Amabel's head, and proceeded to unlock a large chest that stood near the foot of the bed. She found it filled with valuables—with chains of gold, necklaces of precious stones, loops of pearl, diamond crosses, and other ornaments. Besides these, there were shawls and stuffs of the richest description. While contemplating these treasures, and considering how she should carry them off without alarming the household, she was startled by a profound sigh; and looking towards the bed, perceived to her great alarm, that Amabel had opened her eyes, and was watching her.
"What are you doing there, nurse?" she cried.
"Only looking at these pretty things, your ladyship," replied Judith, in an embarrassed tone.
"I hope you are not going to steal them?" said Amabel.
"Steal them?" echoed Judith, alarmed. "Oh, no! What should make your ladyship think so?"
"I don't know," said Amabel; "but put them by, and bring the keys to me."
Judith feigned compliance, but long before she had restored the things to the chest, Amabel had again fallen asleep. Apprised by her tranquil breathing of this circumstance, Judith arose; and shading the candle with her hand, crept noiselessly towards the bed. Dark thoughts crossed her as she gazed at the unfortunate sleeper; and moving with the utmost caution, she set the light on the table behind the curtains, and had just grasped the pillow, with the intention of plucking it from under Amabel's head, and of smothering her with it, when she felt herself restrained by a powerful grasp, and turning in utmost alarm, beheld the Earl of Rochester.
VI.
THE CERTIFICATE
"Wretch!" cried the earl. "An instinctive dread that you would do your poor charge some injury brought me back, and I thank Heaven I have arrived in time to prevent your atrocious purpose."
"Your lordship would have acted more discreetly in staying away," replied Judith, recovering her resolution; "and I would recommend you not to meddle in the matter, but to leave it to me. No suspicion shall alight on you, nor shall it even be known that her end was hastened. Leave the house as secretly as you came, and proceed on your journey with a light heart. She will never trouble you further."
"What!" exclaimed Rochester, who was struck dumb for the moment by surprise and indignation, "do you imagine I would listen to such a proposal? Do you think I would sanction her murder?"
"I am sure you would, if you knew as much as I do," replied Judith, calmly. "Hear me, my lord," she continued, drawing him to a little distance from the bed, and speaking in a deep low tone. "You cannot marry Mistress Mallet while this girl lives."
Rochester looked sternly and inquiringly at her. "You think your marriage was feigned," pursued Judith; "that he was no priest who performed the ceremony; and that no other witnesses were present except Sir George Etherege and Pillichody. But you are mistaken. I and Chowles were present; and he who officiated was a priest. The marriage was a lawful one; and yon sleeping girl, who, but for your ill-timed interference, would, ere this, have breathed her last, is to all intents and purposes Countess of Rochester."
"A lie!" cried the earl, furiously.
"I will soon prove it to be truth," rejoined Judith. "Your retainer and unscrupulous agent, Major Pillichody, applied to Chowles to find some one to personate a clergyman in a mock marriage, which your lordship wished to have performed, and promised a handsome reward for the service. Chowles mentioned the subject to me, and we speedily contrived a plan to outwit your lordship, and turn the affair to our advantage."
The earl uttered an ejaculation of rage.
"Being acquainted with one of the minor canons of Saint Paul's, a worthy and pious young man, named Vincent," pursued Judith, utterly unmoved by Rochester's anger, "who resided hard by the cathedral, we hastened to him, and acquainted him with the design, representing ourselves as anxious to serve the poor girl, and defeat your lordship's wicked design—for such we termed it. With a little persuasion, Mr. Vincent consented to the scheme. Pillichody was easily duped by Chowles's statement, and the ceremony was fully performed."
"The whole story is a fabrication," cried the earl, with affected incredulity.
"I have a certificate of the marriage," replied Judith, "signed by Mr. Vincent, and attested by Chowles and myself. If ever woman was wedded to man, Amabel is wedded to your lordship."
"If this is the case, why seek to destroy her?" demanded the earl. "Her life must be of more consequence to you than her removal."
"I will deal frankly with you," replied Judith. "She discovered me in the act of emptying that chest, and an irresistible impulse prompted me to make away with her. But your lordship is in the right. Her life is valuable to me, and she shall live. But, I repeat, you cannot marry the rich heiress, Mistress Mallet."
"Temptress!" cried the earl, "you put frightful thoughts into my head."
"Go your ways," replied Judith, "and think no more about her. All shall be done that you require. I claim as my reward the contents of that chest."
"Your reward shall be the gallows," rejoined the earl, indignantly. "I reject your proposal at once. Begone, wretch! or I shall forget you are a woman, and sacrifice you to my fury. Begone!"
"As your lordship pleases," she replied; "but first, the Countess of Rochester shall be made acquainted with her rights." So saying, she broke from him, and rushed to the bed.
"What are you about to do?" he cried.
"Waken her," rejoined Judith, slightly shaking the sleeper.
"Ah!" exclaimed Amabel, opening her eyes, and gazing at her with a terrified and bewildered look.
"His lordship is returned," said Judith.
"Indeed!" exclaimed Amabel, raising herself in the bed. "Where is he?—Ah, I see him.—Come to me, my dear lord," she added, stretching out her arms to him, "Come to me."
But evil thoughts kept Rochester motionless. "Oh! come to me, my lord," cried Amabel, in a troubled tone, "or I shall begin to think what I have dreamed is true, and that I am not wedded to you."
"It was merely a dream, your ladyship," observed Judith. "I will bear witness you are wedded to his lordship, for I was present at the ceremony."
"I did not see you," remarked Amabel.
"I was there, nevertheless," replied Judith.
"I am sorry to hear it," replied Amabel.
"Your ladyship would rejoice if you knew all," returned Judith, significantly.
"Why so?" inquired the other, curiously.
"Because the clergyman who married you is dead of the plague," was the answer; "and it may chance in these terrible times that the two gentlemen who were present at the ceremony may die of the same distemper, and then there will be no one left but me and another person to prove that your marriage was lawful."
"But its lawfulness will never be questioned, my dear lord, will it?" asked Amabel, looking beseechingly at Rochester.
"Never," replied Judith, producing a small piece of parchment, "while I hold this certificate."
"Give me that document," said the earl, in an undertone, to her.
Judith directed her eyes towards the chest. "It is yours," said the earl, in the same tone as before.
"What are you whispering, my lord?" inquired Amabel, uneasily.
"I am merely telling her to remove that chest, sweetheart," he replied.
"Do not send it away," cried Amabel. "It contains all the ornaments and trinkets you have given me. Do you know," she added in a whisper, "I caught her looking into it just now, and I suspect she was about to steal something."
"Pshaw!" cried the earl, "she acted by my directions. Take the chest away," he added to Judith.
"Has your lordship no further orders?" she rejoined, significantly.
"None whatever," he replied, with a frown.
"Before you go, give me the certificate," cried Amabel. "I must have it."
Judith pretended not to hear her. "Give it her," whispered the earl, "I will remove it when she falls asleep."
Nodding acquiescence, Judith took the parchment from her bosom, and returned with it to the bed. While this was passing, the earl walked towards the chest, and cast his eye over such of its contents as were scattered upon the floor. Judith watched him carefully, and when his back was turned, drew a small lancet, and affecting to arrange her dress, slightly punctured Amabel's neck. The pain was trifling, but the poor girl uttered a cry.
"What is the matter?" cried the earl, turning suddenly round.
"Nothing—nothing," replied Judith; "a pin in my sleeve pricked her as I was fastening her cap, that was all. Her death is certain," she added to herself, "she is inoculated with the plague-venom."
She then went to the chest, and replacing everything within it, removed it, by the help of the Earl of Rochester, into the adjoining room. "I will send for it at midnight," she said.
"It shall be delivered to your messenger," rejoined the earl; "but you will answer for Chowles's secrecy?"
"I will," returned Judith, with a meaning smile. "But you may take my word for it you will not be troubled long with your wife. If I have any judgment respecting the plague, she is already infected."
"Indeed!" cried Rochester—"then—" but he checked himself, and added, "I do not believe it. Begone."
"He does believe it for all that," muttered Judith, as he slunk away.
Rochester returned to Amabel, and sat by her until she fell asleep, when he took the parchment from beneath the pillow where she had placed it. Examining it, he found it, as Judith had stated, a certificate of his marriage, signed by Mark Vincent, the clergyman who had officiated, and duly attested. Having carefully perused it, he held it towards the taper, with the intention of destroying it. As he was about to perpetrate this unworthy action, he looked towards the bed. The soft sweet smile that played upon the sleeper's features, turned him from his purpose. Placing the parchment in his doublet, he left the room, and summoning a female attendant, alleged some reason for his unexpected return, and ordered her to watch by the bedside of her mistress. Giving some further directions, he threw himself upon a couch and sought a few hours' repose. At daybreak, he repaired to Amabel's chamber, and finding her wrapped in a peaceful slumber, he commended her to the attendant, and departed.
On awaking, Amabel complained of an uneasy sensation on her neck, and the attendant examining the spot, found, to her great alarm, a small red pustule. Without making a single observation, she left the room, and despatched a messenger after the Earl of Rochester to acquaint him that the countess was attacked by the plague. Such was the terror inspired by this dread disorder, that the moment it was known that Amabel was attacked by it, the whole household, except an old woman, fled. This old woman, whose name was Batley, and who acted as the earl's housekeeper, took upon herself the office of nurse. Before evening, the poor sufferer, who had endured great agony during the whole of the day, became so much worse, that Mrs. Batley ran out in search of assistance. She met with a watchman, who told her that a famous apothecary, from Clerkenwell, named Sibbald, who was celebrated for the cures he had effected, had just entered a neighbouring house, and offered to await his coming forth, and send him to her. Thanking him, Mrs. Batley returned to the house, and presently afterwards, Sibbald made his appearance. His looks and person had become even more repulsive than formerly. He desired to be led to the patient, and on seeing her, shook his head. He examined the pustule, which had greatly increased in size, and turning away, muttered, "I can do nothing for her."
"At least make the attempt," implored Mrs. Batley. "She is the Countess of Rochester. You shall be well rewarded—and if you cure her, the earl will make your fortune."
"If his lordship would change stations with me, I could not cure her," replied Sibbald. "Let me look at her again," he added, examining the pustule. "There is a strange appearance about this tumour. Has Judith Malmayns attended her?"
"She was here yesterday," replied Mrs. Batley.
"I thought so," he muttered. "I repeat it is all over with her." And he turned to depart.
"Do not leave her thus, in pity do not!" cried the old woman, detaining him. "Make some effort to save her. My lord loves her to distraction, and will abundantly reward you."
"All I can do is to give her something to allay the pain," returned Sibbald. And drawing a small phial from his doublet, he poured its contents into a glass, and administered it to the patient.
"That will throw her into a slumber," he said, "and when she wakes, she will be without pain. But her end will be not far off."
Mrs. Batley took a purse from a drawer in one of the cabinets, and gave it to the apothecary, who bowed and retired. As he had foretold, Amabel fell into a heavy lethargy, which continued during the whole of the night. Mrs. Batley, who had never left her, noticed that an extraordinary and fearful change had taken place in her countenance, and she could not doubt that the apothecary's prediction would be realized. The tumour had increased in size, and was surrounded by a dusky brown circle, which she knew to be a bad sign. The sufferer's eyes, when she opened them, and gazed around, had a dim and glazed look. But she was perfectly calm and composed, and, as had been prognosticated, free from pain. She had, also, fully regained her faculties, and seemed quite aware of her dangerous situation.
But the return of reason brought with it no solace. On the contrary, the earl's treachery rushed upon her recollection, and gave her infinitely more anguish than the bodily pain she had recently endured. She bedewed the pillow with her tears, and fervently prayed for forgiveness for her involuntary fault. Mrs. Batley was deeply moved by her affliction, and offered her every consolation in her power.
"I would the plague had selected me for a victim instead of your ladyship," she said. "It is hard to leave the world at your age, possessed of beauty, honours, and wealth. At mine, it would not signify."
"You mistake the cause of my grief," returned Amabel; "I do not lament that my hour is at hand, but—" and her emotion so overpowered her that she could not proceed.
"Do not disturb yourself further, dear lady," rejoined the old woman.
"Let the worst happen, I am sure you are well prepared to meet your Maker."
"I once was," replied Amabel in a voice of despair, "but now—Oh, Heaven forgive me!"
"Shall I fetch some holy minister to pray beside you, my lady?" said Mrs. Batley; "one to whom you can pour forth the sorrows of your heart?"
"Do so! oh, do!" cried Amabel, "and do not call me lady. I am not worthy to be placed in the same rank as yourself."
"Her wits are clean gone," muttered Mrs. Batley, looking at her compassionately.
"Heed me not," cried Amabel; "but if you have any pity for the unfortunate, do as you have promised."
"I will—I will," said Mrs. Batley, departing.
Half an hour, which scarcely seemed a moment to the poor sufferer, who was employed in fervent prayer, elapsed before Mrs. Batley returned. She was accompanied by a tall man, whom Amabel recognised as Solomon Eagle.
"I have not been able to find a clergyman," said the old woman, "but I have brought a devout man who is willing to pray with you."
"Ah!" exclaimed the enthusiast, starting as he beheld Amabel. "Can it be Mr. Bloundel's daughter?"
"It is," returned Amabel with a groan. "Leave us, my good woman," she added to Mrs. Batley, "I have something to impart to Solomon Eagle which is for his ear alone." The old woman instantly retired, and Amabel briefly related her hapless story to the enthusiast.
"May I hope for forgiveness?" she inquired, as she concluded.
"Assuredly," replied Solomon Eagle, "assuredly! You have not erred wilfully, but through ignorance, and therefore have committed no offence. You will be forgiven—but woe to your deceiver, here and hereafter."
"Oh' say not so," she cried. "May Heaven pardon him as I do. While I have strength left I will pray for him." And she poured forth her supplications for the earl in terms so earnest and pathetic, that the tears flowed down Solomon Eagle's rough cheek. At this juncture, hasty steps were heard in the adjoining passage, and the door opening, admitted the Earl of Rochester, who rushed towards the bed.
"Back!" cried Solomon Eagle, pushing him forcibly aside. "Back!"
"What do you here?" cried Rochester, fiercely.
"I am watching over the death-bed of your victim," returned Solomon Eagle. "Retire, my lord. You disturb her."
"Oh, no," returned Amabel, meekly. "Let him come near me." And as Solomon Eagle drew a little aside, and allowed the earl to approach, she added, "With my latest breath I forgive you, my lord, for the wrong you have done me, and bless you."
The earl tried to speak, but his voice was suffocated by emotion. As soon as he could find words, he said, "Your goodness completely overpowers me, dearest Amabel. Heaven is my witness, that even now I would make you all the reparation in my power were it needful. But it is not so. The wrong I intended you was never committed. I myself was deceived. I intended a feigned marriage, but it was rightfully performed. Time will not allow me to enter into further particulars of the unhappy transaction, but you may credit my assertion when I tell you you are indeed my wife, and Countess of Rochester."
"If I thought so, I should die happy," replied Amabel.
"Behold this proof!" said Rochester, producing the certificate.
"I cannot read it," replied Amabel. "But you could not have the heart to deceive me now."
"I will read it, and you well know I would not deceive you," cried Solomon Eagle, casting his eye over it—"His lordship has avouched the truth," he continued. "It is a certificate of your marriage with him, duly signed and attested."
"God be thanked," ejaculated Amabel, fervently. "God be thanked! You have been spared that guilt, and I shall die content."
"I trust your life will long be spared," rejoined the earl. Amabel shook her head.
"There is but one man in this city who could save her," whispered Solomon Eagle, and I doubt even his power to do so.'
"Who do you mean?" cried Rochester, eagerly.
"Doctor Hodges," replied the enthusiast.
"I know him well," cried the earl. "I will fly to him instantly. Remain with her till I return."
"My lord—my dear lord," interposed Amabel, faintly, "you trouble yourself needlessly. I am past all human aid."
"Do not despair," replied the earl. "Many years of happiness are, I trust, in store for us. Do not detain me. I go to save you. Farewell for a short time."
"Farewell, for ever, my lord," she said, gently pressing his hand. "We shall not meet again. Your name will be coupled with my latest breath."
"I shall be completely unmanned if I stay here a moment longer," cried the earl, breaking from her, and rushing out of the room.
As soon as he was gone, Amabel addressed herself once more to prayer with Solomon Eagle, and in this way an hour passed by. The earl not returning at the end of that time, Solomon Eagle became extremely uneasy, every moment being of the utmost consequence, and summoning Mrs. Batley, committed the patient to her care, and set off in search of Hodges. He hastened to the doctor's house—he was absent—to Saint Paul's—he was not there, but he learnt that a person answering to the earl's description had been making similar inquiries after him.
At last, one of the chirurgeon's assistants told him that he thought the doctor was gone towards Cornhill, and hoping, accidentally, to meet with him, the enthusiast set off in that direction. While passing near the Exchange, he encountered Leonard, as before related, but did not think fit to acquaint him with more than Amabel's dangerous situation; and he had reason to regret making the communication at all, on finding its effect upon the poor youth. There was, however, no help for it, and placing him in what appeared a situation of safety, he left him.
Rochester, meanwhile, had been equally unsuccessful in his search for Hodges. Hurrying first in one direction and then in another, at the suggestion of the chirurgeon's assistant, he at last repaired to the doctor's residence, determined to await his return. In half an hour he came, and received the earl, as the old porter stated to Thirlby and Leonard, with angry astonishment. As soon as they were alone, the earl told him all that had occurred, and besought him to accompany him to the poor sufferer.
"I will go to her," said Hodges, who had listened to the recital with mixed feelings of sorrow and indignation, "on one condition—and one only—namely, that your lordship does not see her again without my permission."
"Why do you impose this restriction upon, me sir?' demanded Rochester.
"I do not think it necessary to give my reasons, my lord," returned Hodges; "but I will only go upon such terms."
"Then I must perforce submit," replied the earl; "but I entreat you to set forth-without a moment's delay, or you will be too late."
"I will follow you instantly," rejoined Hodges. "Your lordship can wait for me at the Southwark side of the bridge." He then opened the door, reiterating the terms upon which alone he would attend, and the earl departed.
Shortly afterwards he set out, and making the best of his way, found Rochester at the appointed place. The latter conducted him to the entrance of the habitation, and indicating a spot where he would remain till his return, left him. Hodges soon found his way to the chamber of the sufferer, and at once perceived that all human aid was vain. She exhibited much pleasure at seeing him, and looked round, as if in search of the earl. Guessing her meaning, the physician, who now began to regret the interdiction he had placed upon him, told her that he was the cause of his absence.
"It is well," she murmured—"well." She then made some inquiries after her relatives, and receiving a satisfactory answer, said, "I am glad you are come. You will be able to tell my father how I died."
"It will be a great comfort to him to learn the tranquil frame in which I have found you," replied Hodges.
"How long have I to live?" asked Amabel, somewhat quickly. "Do not deceive me."
