'I'm sure I shall send that lawyer man about his business,' she threatened.
'Look here,' said Mark timorously as he was leaving the house, 'I've told you I don't want the money—I would give it away to some charity; but do you think I ought to pretend to yield, just to humour him, and let him die quiet and peaceful? I shouldn't like him to die hating——'
'Never—never!' she exclaimed.
'What have you and Mark been talking about?' asked Edward Beechinor apprehensively as Mary re-entered the bedroom.
'Nothing,' she replied with a grave and soothing kindliness of tone.
'Because, miss, if you think——'
'You must have your medicine now, Edward.'
But before giving the patient his medicine she peeped through the curtain and watched Mark's figure till it disappeared up the hill towards Bleakridge. He, on his part, walked with her image always in front of him. He thought hers was the strongest, most righteous soul he had ever encountered; it seemed as if she had a perfect passion for truth and justice. And a week ago he had deemed her a capable girl, certainly—but lackadaisical!