“Why am I kept away from my father?” she cried.
“Your father is no more,” whispered the physician, gently.
“Dead?—dead?—And he never knew that I had found him out. The thief, dead—and I—Oh, father—!”
She collapsed, sobbing hysterically and screaming. The pent-up agony of the last few weeks burst forth, and she babbled and raved like a mad woman. The physician carried her shrieking from the room, and the miser was left in peace. By his bedside, his only friend, Dora, knelt and prayed silently.
Trimmer stole from the room, with bowed head and tears falling—tears for the first time since childhood. The strange, hypnotic spell of his servitude was finished. He walked about aimlessly, like one wandering in a mist. As yet, he could not lay hold on the freedom that was his at last.
CHAPTER XXIX
A PUBLIC CONFESSION
The physician and Mrs. Ripon between them managed to soothe Mrs. Swinton, and bring her back to consciousness of her surroundings; but the minutes were flying, and she dimly remembered that her husband, knowing nothing of what had passed, would go remorselessly through with his confession. She begged to be allowed to return home at once.