“You are so good!” he said, weakly, but with deep feeling. “Why are you so good to me—a stranger?”
“Because I like you, and you are in trouble.”
“There are not many like you—not many! I know I can trust you, and I do wish you would do something for me!”
“I will. Tell me what it is. I promise in advance.”
“I don’t want you to promise till you know what it is, for I have no right to ask so much of you.”
“Very well. Tell me.”
“When I am dead, for I know I shall not last long—will you find my sister and tell her everything? Tell her how near I came to reaching her, and let her know that I am gone. She loves me. I am only fifteen, but she is eighteen and very beautiful. She looks like my angel mother. Dear little Milly! Will you do this?”
“I will do it, if the occasion arises; but we’ll have you all right in a short time, and you will go to her yourself.”
“If I recover, I shall not be able to go to her.”
“Why not?”