“She’s out of her senses,” said Mrs. Bell, “and all for that trumpery letter. I’ll make her believe we have found it.”
“And so make her worse than ever when she discovers the trick,” said Mrs. Marshall. “No, that won’t do.” And she turned to the sick woman,—“I say, Mary, you would not mind so much about the letter if you were to see your husband very soon, would you?”
“Surely no,” replied the widow, looking perplexed, but immediately calm. “But my husband is gone, long ago, is not he? But perhaps I am going too. Is that what you mean, cousin Marshall?”
“I don’t know whether you be or no, Mary; but you have no strength for raving as you did just now. If you wish to live for your children’s sake, you must be quiet.”
“I was thinking a deal about dying last night, and what was to become of the children; but I forgot all about it to-day. Poor things! they have no friends but you two,” looking from Mrs. Bell to her cousin Marshall. “You will see to them, I am sure. You will not cast them out upon the world; and depend upon it, it will be repaid to you. I will pray God day and night, just as I would here, to watch over them and reward those that are kind to them; particularly whichever of you takes Sally; for I am much afraid Sally will go blind.” As she gazed earnestly in the faces of her relations, Mrs. Bell tried to put her off with bidding her make her mind easy, and trust in Providence, and hope to live. Her cousin Marshall did better.
“I will take charge of Sally and of one of the others,” said she. “I promise it to you; and you may trust my promise, because my husband and I have planned it many a time when we saw what a weakly way you were in. They shall be brought up like our own children, and you know how that is.”
“God bless you for ever, cousin! And as for the other two——”
“Leave that to me,” replied Mrs. Marshall, who saw that the patient’s countenance began to resume its unsettled expression. “Leave it all to me, and trust to my promise.”
“Just one thing more,” said the widow, starting up as her cousin would have retired. “Dear me! how confused my head is,—and all because you have moved the bed opposite the window, which my head never could bear. Listen now. In the cupboard on the left side the bed,—at least, that is where it was,—you will find a japanned box that I keep my rent in. At the bottom of that box there is a letter——”
“Well, well, Mary. That will do by-and-by.”