“Two hours gone,” he saith, mournfully.
“Robin,” I could not help whispering, “said she aught comfortable at the last?”
“She never spake at all for the last six hours,” he made answer. “But the last word she did say was—the publican’s prayer, Milly.”
“Then there is hope!” I thought, but I said it not to Robin.
So we came home and told the sorrowful tidings.
Selwick Hall, February ye xxv.
I was out in the garden this morrow, picking of snowdrops to lay round Blanche’s coffin. My back was to the gate, when all suddenly I heard Dr Bell’s voice say—“Milisent, is that thou?”
I rose up and ran to the gate, where he sat on his horse.
“Well, Milly,” saith he, “the shutters are up at Mere Lea.”
“Ay, we know it, Doctor,” said I, sadly.