'She spoke quite calmly and naturally, though her voice was very faint. A glance at her face showed that the delirium had passed away; but there was a curious expression in her eyes that I had never seen before. The wild, vacant look was gone, but they were still strangely bright; and there was something so deep and solemn, and at the same time so very sad and yearning, in the gaze which she turned upon me as I went to her side, that I almost shrank from her.
'"What o'clock is it?" she repeated, with an effort to raise her voice.
'"About nine, my love," Henrietta replied tremulously. "How do you feel, dear Bessie? You are better, I think, are you not?"
'Bessie made no answer. She only closed her eyes again, and leaned her cheek against Henrietta's hand. At length she opened them again, and said abruptly:
'"I heard what she said, Henrietta. She was quite right. I shall not be here in the morning."
'A thrill ran through me as she said this.
'"Oh don't, Bessie—don't speak so! You are, better now—indeed you are! You will get well, and my father and Henrietta's will pay." Here I broke off suddenly, checked by a warning glance from Henrietta, and buried my face in the pillow to choke back the rising sobs.
'"No, Frances, dear, I am not better," said Bessie, still in the same calm, steady tone; "and I don't think I want to get better. It is all coming back to me now. I remember what he said about my uncle. Was that very long ago, Henrietta?"
'"Only this morning, my dear."
'"Only this morning! And I feel as if it was all so very, very long ago. It seems like a dream—a dreadful, horrible dream. Ah! I thought I was going to die when he looked at me like that." She gave a sort of gasp and shudder, and clung more closely to Henrietta's hand. "I don't want to think of his face now, Henrietta. Do help me," she said plaintively. "Won't you read to me, and say some prayers?"