Mrs Rowland, to-day reckless of everything but her child, was standing out on the steps, watching, as for the last hope for her Matilda.
“She is much worse, Mr Hope; suddenly and alarmingly worse. This way: follow me.”
Hope would speak with Mr Walcot first. As he entered the study, to await Mr Walcot, Philip passed out. They did not speak.
“Oh, Philip! speak to Mr Hope!” cried Mrs Rowland. “For God’s sake do not do anything to offend him now!”
“I will do everything in my power, madam, to save your child,” said Hope. “Do not fear that the conduct of her relations will be allowed to injure her.”
“My love,” said Mr Rowland, “Mr Hope came from a sick bed to help us. Do not distrust him. Indeed he deserves better from us.”
“Pray forgive me,” said the miserable mother. “I do not well know what I am saying. But I will atone for all if you save my child.”
“Priscilla!” cried her brother, from the doorway, against which he was leaning. His tone of wonder was lost as Walcot entered, and the study was left for the conference of the medical men.
As the gentlemen went upstairs to Matilda’s room, they saw one child here, and another there, peeping about, in silence and dismay. As Hope put his hand on the head of one in passing, Mr Rowland said:
“There is a carriage coming for them presently, to take them away. Anna and George are now with Miss Young, and she will take them all away. She is very good: but I knew we might depend upon her—upon her heart, and her forgiveness. Ah! you hear the poor child’s voice. That shows you the way.”