“You say your husband is out?”
“Oh, yes, monsieur. I begged him not to go, but he said that he must go.”
“Not to fetch a doctor?”
“N–no, monsieur,” faltered the woman hysterically. “It is not my fault, monsieur; I begged him not to go—and—O Ciel! that it should have happened.”
“No one blames you, my good woman,” said Stratton as she burst into a hysterical fit of sobbing, while Brettison looked at her strangely. “If he had been here he could have helped my friend down to the sands.”
“And monsieur will forgive us,” sobbed the woman; “we are poor, honest people, and it is so terrible for your good friend to be like that.”
“Quick!” said Brettison. “I am strong enough. Let’s get it over before something happens.”
He clung to Stratton’s arm, and, supporting himself with his stick, he made a brave effort, and, gaining strength out in the soft sea air, he walked slowly but pretty firmly along by the foot of the cliff.
“If Jules would only return,” sobbed the woman hysterically. “Oh, that such a misfortune should come upon our home! Poor gentleman! and he bears it like a lamb.”