"I'm sure you will. I'm so very sorry for you both."
Then Miss Maybrick lapsed into silence, and Anstice did not feel inclined to break it.
She went straight up to Miss Carrie's bedroom when she reached the Hall, and found her with fever-flushed cheeks and parched, dry lips, wrapped in cotton-wool, and giving plaintive cries like some child in pain. As Anstice bent over her, she opened her eyes and a look of recognition flashed into them.
"I'm going to die," she gasped; "and you're a good woman. I know you are. Help me."
"May I be alone with her?" Anstice asked Miss Maybrick. "And don't you think Mr. Bolland might be sent for?"
"I'll send, if you think it's any good. She doesn't know him, and the Vicar here has gone away for his health and there are only locum tenens who come over for the Sunday services."
The day nurse rather unwillingly left the room, and then Anstice knelt by the bed.
"Miss Carrie, our Lord is here close to you. Won't you speak to Him yourself?"
"I don't know how," she whimpered. "I'm in too much pain."
"Can you say after me, 'Lord, have mercy on me and receive my soul'?"