Mr. Force softly turned the handle of the lock, which had been oiled, and entered the room.
On the bed, covered with a white counterpane up to her chin, lay the form of his fair wife, still and white as death. On one side of her sat the nurse; on the other side stood the doctor.
Mr. Force raised his finger in token that he did not mean to speak, nor expect to be spoken to, and so he approached the bed on tiptoe, and gazed upon the marble features, colorless except for the dark rings around the eyes and lips.
As the husband gazed a spasm of anguish convulsed his features. He turned his eyes from the face of his wife to that of the young doctor who stood over her.
Dr. Hollis smiled and placed his finger on his lips.
Abel Force understood both signs, and felt a little hope steal into his heart. He stood for some time longer gazing upon the beloved face, and then, at another sign from the doctor, he turned to steal noiselessly from the room.
As he went from the bedside toward the door his eyes fell on a large packet of paper, with a note tied on the top of it. And as he passed he took it up, thinking that it might be something that required to be sent to the post office.
After leaving the room and closing the door softly behind him, he looked at the superscription of the packet. And it was this:
“To my dear husband, Abel Force. To be opened by him alone.”
The packet was sealed and tied with a cord, under which was slipped a letter, directed simply to Abel Force, Esq.