‘And when again?’
‘Not very long ago; when they had the election at Sloville. I was there and he too, but he would not look at me. Oh, he was harder than ever!’
‘Speak not of him now—he’s dead.’
‘Dead! Oh, dear!’ said the woman. ‘Do you mean to say he’s really dead?’
‘Yes,’ said the actress, ‘he died only a few days since.’
‘And I am dying—oh, dear! What a wicked woman I’ve been! What mischief I’ve done!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Why, I meant to restore the boy.’
‘It is too late—the boy has no father now. Is this truth you tell me? It is a strange story.’
‘The truth, so help me God.’