"This is my wife, Kate," said Churchill; "my wife, of whom you were speaking this evening."
"Your wife! ah, I'm so glad; I never thought of that; I never thought of asking her who she was; I only knew she was, oh, so kind and so affectionate with me; and it was because she was your wife, eh? Will you kiss me again, dear? So; and again! What a sweet soft face it is! Ah, he's been so good to me dear, this husband of yours; and I've given him such trouble for so many years. So grave and so steady he's always been, that I've looked upon him as quite an old fellow, and never thought of his marrying. I--I'm much weaker to-night, I think; the pain seems to have left my side; but I feel so weak, as though I couldn't raise a finger. You're there Robert?"
"Yes, dear."
"Ay, I feel your hand-grip now! You must not mind what I'm going to say, Robert; you took on so before; but you'll be brave now, eh, Robert? I--I know I'm going home--to my long home, I mean; and I want to say how happy, and peaceful, and grateful to the Lord, I am. I've often thought of this time--often and often; and wondered--and I've often thought it would be like this, and yet not quite in this way. You used to talk to me about my rashness, Guardy,--in riding, I mean."
"Yes, dear Kate; and you always promised, and you never did, my headstrong child!"
"No, Guardy, I didn't, and yet I tried hard; but I hadn't much pleasure elsewise, had I? Robert knows that; and I did so enjoy my work! I've often thought it might come when I was with the hounds, and that would have been dreadful! All the business and bother in the field, and carried away somewhere, to some wretched place, where there'd have been no one near to care for me; and now I've you all here, and that kind old doctor; and, oh, thank God for all!"
There was a little pause, and then she asked in, if any thing, a weaker voice, "What's become of the horse? does any one know?--the horse, I mean, that did this?"
"He was taken home, Kate; so Freeman said. He's good deal cut; but--"
"Oh, don't let him come to grief, Robert! It wasn't fault, poor fellow! He was startled by the--ah, well; it's all over now! Don't frown so, Robert; I ought to have known better. Lord Clonmel always said he had a temper of his own; but I thought I could do any thing, and--Some of them will crow over this, won't they? Those Jeffrey girls, who always said I was a park-rider, and no good at fencing, eh? Well, well, that's neither here nor there. You know all about the will, Guardy,--in the desk, you know? and what I said about your having--and Freeman--and the men's wages; and--"
As she spoke she sunk back, and seemed to fall asleep at once. The nurse, who had been hovering round, advanced and looked anxiously at her, laying her finger on her pulse, and peering into her face. Reassured, she retired again; and the others, save Simnel, who still remained kneeling by the bed, resumed their places. Then, stretched supine, and without addressing herself to any one, Kate Mellon began to talk again. Fragmentary, disconnected, incoherent sentences they were that she uttered; but, listening to them, Simnel and Frank Churchill managed to make out that her head was wandering, and that she was running through passages of her earlier life.