“Why so? We must take the girl into our confidence—that is all.”
“The sooner the better then. Let us have her in here.”
Jael was sent for, and Mr. Raby requested her to take a seat, and give all her attention to something Dr. Amboyne had to say.
Dr. Amboyne then told her, with quiet earnestness, that Mrs. Little was at present so ill and weak he felt sure the news of Henry's death would kill her.
“Ay, poor soul!” said Jael, and began to cry bitterly.
The doctor held his peace, and cast a disconsolate look on Raby, as much as to say, “We shall get no efficient aid in this quarter.”
After a little while Jael dried her eyes, and said, “Go on, sir. I must needs cry before you now and then: 'tisn't to say I shall ever cry before HER.”
“Well, then, if we CAN get her safe to this place, and keep her in the dark for a few months, I think we may save her life. Every thing else will be in her favor here: her native air, cherished memories, her brother's love—and, after all, it was fretting about her quarrel with him that first undermined her health and spirits. Well, we shall remove the cause, and then perhaps the effect may go. But how are we to keep the sad truth from her?”
“Let me think,” said Jael Dence. “My head is a deal clearer since last night.”
She leaned her chin upon her hand, and her face and brow showed signs of intellectual power no one had ever observed in them before.