“My sister gradually recovered: and then, through grief and fatigue, I fell sick for the third time. I felt it coming on. My sister nursed me; for a time I thought I was going to die. ‘Oh, Edith,’ I said, ‘when I die, devote your life while it lasts to Langhetti, whom God sent to us in our despair. Save his life even if you give up your own.’
“After that I became delirious, and remained so for a long time. Weeks passed; and when at last I revived the plague was stayed, and but few sick were on the island. My case was a lingering one, for this was the third attack of the fever. Why I didn’t die I can’t understand. There was no attendance. All was confusion, horror, and death.
“When I revived the first question was after Langhetti and Edith. No one knew any thing about them. In the confusion we had been separated, and Edith had died alone.”
“Who told you that she died?” asked Louis, with a troubled look.
Frank looked at him with a face of horror.
“Can you bear what I am going to say?”
“Yes.”
“When I was able to move about I went to see if any one could tell me about Edith and Langhetti. I heard an awful story; that the superintendent had gone mad and had been found trying to dig open a grave, saying that some one was buried alive. Who do you think? oh, my brother!”
“Speak!”
“Edith Brandon was the name he named.”