‘They hoped so, at one time, last night. She seemed to know him.’
‘Is he there?’
Robert only sighed assent, for again the voice was heard—‘I must get up. Miss Sandbrook wants me. She says I shan’t be afraid when the time comes; but oh!—so many, many faces—all their eyes looking; and where is he?—why doesn’t he look? Oh! Miss Sandbrook, don’t bring that young lady here—I know—I know it is why he never comes—keep her away—’
The voice turned to shrieking sobs. There were sounds of feet and hurried movements, and Owen came out, gasping for breath, and his face flushed. ‘I can’t bear it,’ he said, with his hands over his face.
‘Can I be of use?’ asked Robert.
‘No; the nurse can hold her;’ and he leant his arms on the mantelpiece, his frame shaken with long-drawn sobs. He had never even seen his sister, and she was too much appalled to speak or move.
When the sounds ceased, Owen looked up to listen, and Robert said, ‘Still no consciousness?’
‘No, better not. What would she gain by it?’
‘It must be better not, if so ordained,’ said Robert.
‘Pshaw! what are last feelings and words? As if a blighted life and such suffering were not sure of compensation. There’s more justice in Heaven than in your system!’