“Something to comfort me, if you are not utterly heartless. Had he doctors? help? comforts of any kind?”
“He had everything that money and love could procure. He died in Mr. Lanhearne’s house. I was at his side. Whatever could be done by human skill to save his life was done.”
“Did he name me often?”
“Yes.”
“And you never said a word––never would have done––you were going away without telling me. How could you be so cruel?”
“It was wrong. I should have told you. He spoke often about you. In his delirium he believed himself with you. He called your name three times just before he died; it was only a whisper then, he was so weak.”
Elizabeth wept bitterly, and Denasia, moved by 292 many memories, could not watch her unmoved. After a wretched pause she said:
“Good-bye! You are Roland’s sister and he loved you. So then I cannot really hate you. I forgive you all.”
But Elizabeth did not answer. The loss of her brother, the loss of her money––she was feeling that this woman had been the cause of all her sorrows. Grief and anger swelled within her heart; she felt it to be an intolerable wrong to be forgiven. She was silent until Denasia was closing the door, then she rose hastily and followed her.
“Go!” she cried, “and never cross my path again. You have brought me nothing but misery.”