Mabel talked and argued, but felt she was not making any impression. Finally she rose and said, speaking in a hurried whisper, "I spoke to you of hope—of hope that I myself know not. I am in as great darkness as you, and therefore I cannot give you the help you need."
The woman stared at the girl in a strange, uncomprehending sort of way, but she was by this time too weak to make any comment.
"But," continued Mabel, "I know of one who has felt the power of salvation, may I bring her to you?"
She nodded assent, and Mabel hastened away.
It was now nearly ten o'clock, but she felt that the patient would not see the light of day, and that every consideration must give way before the desperate nature of this case. She almost felt inclined to fetch Mr. Chadwell, instead of disturbing Minnie at this unseasonable hour, but feared it might have a fatal effect on the dying woman.
She quietly tapped at the back door, fearing to alarm the family by ringing, and asked to speak to Minnie privately. Minnie took her into her own room, where she related the circumstance in a few hurried words.
As soon as she had taken in the meaning of Mabel's words she ran off without uttering a word, to beg her father's permission to undertake this errand of mercy. He was very reluctant, naturally, but at last yielded, on condition that she could get one of her brothers to accompany her.
They were all in the parlour, from which apartment the sounds of their laughter and merriment proceeded, as Minnie opened the door rather hesitatingly, and asked Charlie to come out and speak to her a moment.
"Why can't you come in here and speak to me?" He asked, "I feel so comfortable, I don't care about moving."
"Oh, do come quickly!" entreated Minnie. "You don't know what may be the consequence of a minute's delay."