She started up, crying—
“Ah! I knew it, I knew it! He loves me—he loves me as I love him—only his love is deep, while mine was shallow! Oh, my dear love—he loves me, and now he is dying! Ah! I know that he is dying, or he would not have sent me these; he would have sacrificed himself—nay, he has sacrificed himself for me—for me!”
She threw herself on a sofa and buried her face in her hands.
“My dear—dear sister,” said Katherine, “is it possible that you—you——”
“That I loved him, do you ask?” cried Mary, raising her head. “Yes, I loved him—I love him still—I shall never love any one else, and I am going to him to tell him so. Ah! God will be good—God will be good. My love shall live until I go to him.”
“My poor child!” said her sister. “I could never have guessed your secret. Come away. We will go to him together.”
They left by the coach that day, and early the next morning they went together to Brick Court.
A woman weeping met them at the foot of the stairs. They recognised Mrs. Abington.
“Do not tell me that I am too late—for God's sake say that he still lives!” cried Mary.
The actress took her handkerchief from her eyes.