When she roused again Mr. Slade was standing over her holding her pulse. "Well," he asked in a gentle voice, "you know me? Ah, of course you do! I've seen you taking stock of my old rattletrap, as you've spun by me, and laughing at my nag. Pain still? kind of pressure, eh? Yes, yes, my poor lass, I know what you mean; so dreadfully weak too; yes, yes. What, danger? Wen, my dear, there's always danger in these cases; and one never knows. Not afraid? no, my brave girl, I know your courage; but--well, there's no harm in settling any little matters which--eh? if in God's will we come all right, there's no harm done, and,---yes, yes; rest now a bit; I'll see you again to-night." And Mr. Slade hurried into his carriage, blowing his Rose very loudly indeed with his red-silk pocket-handkerchief, and with two large tears on his spectacle-glasses..
When the door had shut behind him, Kate called the nurse in a feeble voice, and bade her send for the lady to whom she had previously spoken. In answer to this call, Barbara was speedily by the bedside.
"You--you don't mind my sending for you! do you, dear?" asked Kate, in a low tremulous voice.
"Mind, my poor child,--mind! of course not. What is it, dear?"
"I want you to--do you mind, giving me your hand? I can't reach it myself--so, dear; thank you. I want you to do something for me. I--I'm dying, dear--oh, don't shrink from me--I know it; he tried to hide it from me, that kind old man, and bless him for it! but I saw how he looked at the nurse, and I heard her whispering to him behind the screen. I don't fear it, dear. I know--well, never mind! I want to see two people before I go; and I want you to send for them and let them come here, and let me talk to them--will you, dear?"
"Why, of course, of course," said Barbara, the tears streaming down her cheeks; "but you mustn't talk in this way,--you mustn't give way so--no one can tell how this will turn out."
"I can," said Kate quietly. "I seemed to know it when I heard the click of that horse's shoes against the iron railing. It all rose before me in an instant, and I knew I was a dead woman. You can't conceive--I haven't said much--but you can't conceive what torture I'm going through with my side. It burns and burns, and presses--there! I won't say any more about it. Now, dear, will you put down the names of the people who are to be sent to?"
"I shall recollect them; tell me now."
"Well, Mr. Simnel, Tin-Tax Office, Rutland House--"
"Yes; and--"