Webster looked at the doctor, and the doctor looked at the nurse, and then they both left the room.
“Mr. Webster,” began May, brokenly and agitatedly, “you have brought me here against my will—but will you promise me at least one thing?”
“I will promise you anything you wish.”
“Will you tell no one where I am; remember, no one?”
“I faithfully promise you I will not. You are in a safe refuge here, and no one shall come near you nor molest you unless you wish it.”
“I wish them to think me dead,” said May, in a low, emphatic voice; “I wish everyone to think me dead.”
“I will not betray your secret,” answered Webster, and he stretched out his hand and took hers. “Will you trust me?”
“Yes; and—and do not tell them my name here. You have not told them my name?”
“I have not; Doctor Brentwood is an old friend of mine, and I know you will be well looked after under his care. Try to sleep, and forget what has happened; and what name shall I call you by?”
“Oh, anything; it is no matter.”