When all is again quiet at Broadlawns, Charlie Cole and Sarah Kane again breathe more freely.
"Tell now, now," he says feverishly, "how I am to get away from here and without, remember, that woman? You will have to stay by me, for I am too ill, God help me, to act alone."
"First, you must undress and get into bed; my, but you are weak!"
"I am; please take this key and unlock my trunk; I am not equal to any exertion."
"Were you ill crossing the ocean, sir?"
"I was, but nothing like this; the medical attendant on board said I must have some mental worry which preyed even then upon my bodily health."
"Your name, Charles Cole, how well I remember it," she said, reading it on his linen. "My poor dead mistress and friend trusted me—God help me if I have seemed unfaithful to my trust. Perhaps I should have found out and followed my young mistress, but Silas and I thought I had best watch her interests here. God pity me," she said tearfully, falling upon her knees. "Good Lord, watch over her, lead my steps to her, for I have failed in preventing their black deeds here; so I shall go to America to try and find you, poor, dear, wronged Miss Pearl."
Here Cole, with a groan of weakness and dizziness, falls half undressed upon the bed, at which Sarah Kane flies to him, takes off his boots, assisting him to get under the clothes.
"Poor, poor feet, like ice," she says pityingly; "I must do something for him. Heaven help him among such a horde of cruel hearts; I must at any risk go down and get a foot warmer. Poor fellow, so gentle and amiable-like, he deserved a better fate, and should have a physician at once; but the mind, the poor sick mind, as well as body, how will that be calmed? There, there, don't mind anything; try to sleep. I am going down stairs to get a foot-warmer for you."
"No, no," he said nervously, "you must not leave me."