All on a sudden the boundless aversion which the young lady entertained towards the wretch, became changed into a sentiment of deep commiseration; and Ellen exclaimed involuntarily, "Oh! it is terrible to die thus—in a hospital—and without a friend!"
The bed shook as if with a convulsive shudder on the part of the hag, whose countenance, upturned towards Ellen, wore an expression which—intelligible amidst all the ghastly ugliness of that face—seemed to say, "Is it possible that you can feel pity for me?"
Ellen understood what was passing in the old woman's mind at the moment; and, advancing nearer to the couch, she said in a tone tremulous with emotions, "If you seek forgiveness at my hands for any injury which your pernicious counsels and your fatal aid ever did me, I accord it—Oh! God knows how willingly I accord it! For, though after my fall I long remained callous to a sense of virtue, and acknowledged only the fear of shame as the motive for avoiding farther frailty, yet since I became a wife—for I am a wife," she added proudly,—"holier and better thoughts have taken up their abode in my soul; and good examples have restored my mind to its former purity! Thus, then, I can forgive thee with sincerity—for the injuries and wrongs I have endured through thy counsels, are past and gone!"
At that moment the door opened, and Mrs. Jubkins returned to the room.
Ellen cast another glance of forgiveness upon the hag and hurried into the passage.
"What ails that old woman?" she asked, in a low tone, when the door had closed behind herself and the nurse.
"It seems, by all I can hear, Miss," replied the hospital nurse, "that the old woman had saved up a little money; and as she lived in a low neighbourhood, I 'spose it got wind amongst the thieves and housebreakers. At all events a burglar broke into her place one night, about a week ago; and because she resisted, he beat her in such a cruel way that all her ribs was broke and one of her thighs fractured—so I 'spose he must have thrown her down and jumped on her. The rascal got clean off with all the money she had; and a policeman going his rounds, saw that the house where she lived had been broken open. He went in, and found the old creatur' nearly dead. She was brought here; and when she had recovered a little, she mumbled a few words, telling just what I've now told you. Oh! yes," added the nurse, recollecting herself, "and she also said who the thief was; for when questioned about that point, she was just able to whisper a dreadful name—so dreadful that it haunts me in my dreams."
"What was that name which sounded so terrible?" asked Ellen, with some degree of curiosity.
"The Resurrection Man," replied the nurse, shuddering visibly. "And no sooner had the old woman said those shocking words, than she lost her voice altogether, and has never had the use of it since. We put her into that room to keep her quiet; but she can't live out the week—and her sufferings at times are quite horrible."
As she uttered these words Mrs. Jubkins opened a door at the end of the passage, and conducted Ellen into the room where her husband was lying.