The excess of the agitation of Elinor, when she came to the conclusion, forced Mr Naird to return, but rendered her insensible to his re-appearance. She flung off her bandages, rent open her wound, and tore her hair; calling, screaming for death, with agonizing wrath. 'Is it for this,' she cried, 'I have thus loved—for this I have thus adored the flintiest of human hearts? to see him fly me from the bed of death? Refuse to receive even my parting sigh? Make me over to a dissembling priest?'
Ellis, returning also, urged Mr Naird, who stood aloof, stedfastly, yet quietly fixing his eyes upon his patient, to use his authority for checking this dangerous violence.
Without moving, or lowering his voice, though Ellis spoke in a whisper, he drily answered, 'It is not very material.'
'How so?' cried Ellis, extremely alarmed: 'What is it you mean, Sir?'
'It cannot, now,' he replied, 'occasion much difference.'
Ellis, shuddering, entreated him to make some speedy effort for her preservation.
He thoughtfully stroked his chin, but as Elinor seemed suddenly to attend to them, forbore making further reply.
'What have you been talking of together?' cried she impatiently, 'What is that man's opinion of my situation?—When may I have done with you all? Say! When may I sleep and be at rest?—When, when shall I be no longer the only person in this supine world, awake? He can sleep! Harleigh can sleep, while he yet lives!—He, and all of you! Death is not wanted to give repose to hearts of adamant!'
Ellis, in a low voice, again applied to Mr Naird; but Elinor, watchful and suspicious, insisted upon hearing the subject of their discourse.
Mr Naird, advancing to the bed-side, said, 'Is there any thing you wish, my good lady? Tell me if there is any thing we can do, that will procure you pleasure?'