"Pretty bad, I'm afraid—He'll live, I think—afraid will never run about, though, again."
Lizzie made her way to Rachel's bedroom. She paused outside the door. This was the very hardest thing that she had ever, in all her life, had to do. If Rachel were to repulse her now it would surely be the final absolute proof that she was of no use, no use to anyone in this whole wide world.
She knocked on the door and went in. "Who's that?"
"It's I—Lizzie."
The room was dark, but she saw that Rachel was lying on the bed—she went up to her—Rachel did not move.
"I came," Lizzie said, "to see whether I could help—if I could do anything——"
Rachel said nothing—
"If you'd rather—if you don't want to see me, of course just say...."
Rachel turned over and Lizzie heard her say—"I did it—I wanted him—it was my fault—it was my fault."
Lizzie knelt down beside the bed. "Rachel dear, you mustn't think that. It was nothing to do with anyone. But you can help him now, Rachel—He'll want you, he'll need you now as he's never wanted anyone."