"Leave her at present," said the girl, softly smoothing Lina's tresses with her hand. "Reflection may induce her to accept your noble offer; certainly, at present, she is too ill for any attempt at a removal."
"I will consult my mother," said Ralph, looking mournfully down upon the unhappy girl, whose eyelids began to quiver from the weight of tears that pressed against them, when he spoke of her benefactress; "Lina, promise me not to leave this place till I have consulted with her."
Again Lina struggled for energy to speak, but her voice only reached him in a hoarse whisper.
"Ralph, don't; please never mention me to mamma, it can only do harm—promise this, Ralph. I cannot plead, I cannot weep, but if this is my last breath it prays you not to mention that you saw me, to your mother."
Ralph hesitated till he saw Lina's eyes, that were fixed imploringly upon him, closing with a deathly slowness, while her face became as pallid as the linen on which it rested.
"Lina, Lina, I promise anything, only do not turn so white!" he exclaimed, terrified by her stillness.
She opened her eyes quickly, and tried to smile, but the effort died out in a faint quiver of the lips. She was too much exhausted even for weeping.
"Come," said Agnes, laying her hand on the young man's arm; "this excitement will do her more injury than you dream of. Go down stairs a little while, and wait for me there."
Ralph took Lina's poor little hand from its rest on the counterpane, and, with a touch of his old tenderness, was about to press his lips upon it; but a bitter memory seized him, and he dropped it, murmuring, "Poor child, poor child, it is a hard wish, but God had been merciful if this stillness were, indeed, death!"
A pang of tender sorrow ran through Lina's apparently lifeless frame, as a broken lily is disturbed by the wind, but she had no strength even for a sob; she heard his footsteps as he went out, but they sounded afar off, and, when all was still, she fell into total unconsciousness.