At the word "Old Plod" she turned hastily toward the door. Then, as if mastered by an impulse, she returned, and said, in a tone that thrilled even my feeble pulse:
"Oh, live! in mercy live, or else I can never forgive myself."
"I'll live—never fear," I replied, with a low laugh. "I'm not such a fool as to leave a world containing you."
A rich glow overspread her face, she smiled, then suddenly her face became very pale, and she even seemed frightened as she hastily left the room.
A moment later Mrs. Yocomb came in, full of motherly solicitude.
"Kind Mrs. Yocomb," I murmured, "I am glad I'm in such good hands."
"Thank God, Richard Morton," she said, in low, fervent tones, "thee's going to get well. But don't speak a word."
"Wasn't that Zillah crying?"
"Yes, she was heart-broken about thee being so sick, but she'll laugh now when I tell her thee's better. Take this, and sleep again."
"Bless her kind heart!" I said.