“Yes, Marse Doctor, sure, ’cause I knowed whey I packed it away, an’ nobody ebber went to dat trunk ’cept it was me an’ Miss Lilif.”
“And what do you think has become of it, Nancy?”
“Well, Marse Doctor, I s’pose as po’ dee Miss Lilif give it to dat po’ gal wot come beggin’. I know she did give her a bundle of close, ’caze I helped dat gal to carry dat bundle t’rough de woods an’ ’cross de crik to ole Aunt Adah’s house.”
“Did you see what was in the bundle, Nancy?”
“No, Marse Doctor, not I. I warn’t upstairs in Miss Lilif’s room w’en she give ’way dem close, I war downsta’rs in de store room packing ob a basket wid tea an’ sugar, an’ bread, an’ meat, an’ fings, to tote to po’ ole Aunt Adah, ’cordin’ to Miss Lilif’s orders, an’ I nebber seen dat bundle till dat gal fotch it downsta’rs, an’ I nebber seen wot war inside ob it; but de gal tell me, as I went along wid her, how de young madame had gib her a good dress, an’ dat it must a been dat red cashmere dress wot de young mist’ess couldn’ wear herse’f, ’stead of bein’ de black mournin’ dress wot she could wear; let alone de fac’ dat de young gal wouldn’t a-liked to ’cepted a mournin’ dress, not bein’ in no mournin’. It wouldn’t a been lucky.”
“You are right,” said the doctor. “It was the red cashmere dress that Mrs. Hereward gave to the girl, and that the girl wore when she left the neighborhood that night.”
“Oh, most merciful Heaven, doctor! Do you mean to knock from under me the last prop of hope that sustains me?” groaned Hereward, sinking back pale and faint as any woman might have looked at such a crisis.
“Hush, Tudor! Drink this,” said Dr. Kerr, placing the glass of restorative cordial to his lips.
Hereward emptied the glass, and the doctor set it down, and continued:
“I deprive you of no real hope, Tudor, but of a false hope which, instead of being a prop to support you, is a burden that is wearing you out with anxiety. The sooner you give up all hope the sooner you will be able to resign yourself to the inevitable and find peace and rest for your spirit.”