"Very ill, indeed." He leaned back his head wearily. "It will soon be over."
"Have you no friends who should know of this, good Benoni; no relatives? You have been silent upon this subject, and I have never questioned you. I will bring them if you will let me." Benoni shook his head.
"Never. I am to them already dead." A fit of coughing seized him, and he became greatly exhausted. Upon the table was a small bottle containing wine, left by one of the women. Edward poured out a draught and placed it to the bloodless lips.
"One is my wife," said the dying man, with sudden energy, "my own wife."
"I will answer that she comes; she cannot refuse."
"Refuse? No, indeed! She has been searching for me for a lifetime. Many times she has looked upon me without recognition. She would come; she has been here—she has been here!"
"And did not know you? It is possible?"
"She did not know."
"You told her, though?"
"No."