Rene listened as the voice grew fainter; it kept calling: “Paul, Paul.”
“I would like to see Bob,” said Irene. “I wonder if he would not forgive me, either.”
Irene had come home to die, and when the fact became known to the family that she was suffering, 258 nothing was left undone that could add to her comfort. There was nothing that Scott might think she desired that was not ordered at once. He sent to her room the choicest of flowers and the finest fruits that were to be found; he sent books that he knew she had admired, and he employed a noted physician whom he urged to use his best endeavors to bring her back to health, but he never entered her room. June and Mrs. Wilmer often sat by her bed, and read to her, to cheer her lonely hours, but there never was a word sent from Scott. It was his custom to inquire after her condition each day, and that was all that he ever spoke of her. Thus the time wore on, bringing Irene Wilmer nearer the grave. There were many beautiful bouquets sent to her room and when she would inquire who remembered her in that way, the reply invariably was Scott or Miss Elsworth, the authoress, whom she had met years before at a summer resort. Indeed, every one else, who knew of her return, took not the slightest notice of her home coming, and those who were aware of the fact wondered that Scott would be foolish enough to take her back.
Irene thought that such a noted woman as Miss Elsworth was becoming, must be very kind to think of a sick person like her, but she was foolish enough to think that the sole reason was because she was a Wilmer, though she did not know how she could have known anything about her, but concluded it was all owing to Scott’s riches, that Miss Elsworth had sought her out. She told June she would like so much to see Miss Elsworth, and after many entreaties, June pacified her by 259 saying that she would have Guy find a way, which he did. Miss Elsworth came and Irene requested that she might see her entirely alone, which request was granted.
“I knew you must be good,” Rene said, “or you would never have taken the trouble to send me such beautiful flowers. I wanted to tell you how lonely I am. You know, my husband, that is Scott, never comes in the room. He has never been here since I was ill.”
“Your husband does not visit you?” said Miss Elsworth in surprise. “How sad.”
“Well, I suppose it is all right, for, of course, you have heard of—my leaving him.”
“Yes,” Miss Elsworth replied.
“I was sure you would not speak of my foolishness, but I did not know how good Scott was until it was too late to repent. I know, now, he is one of the best men in all the world, or he never would have given me a place to die in. I don’t deserve it, and I know I won’t want it very long, but some men would never have allowed me to enter the house. I am sorry, oh, so sorry, that I did not know how good he was; I might now have been well and happy.”
“Perhaps you will recover,” said Miss Elsworth, cheerfully.