“I remember everything,” said Evelyn. “It was I who did it. It was I who killed him. Don’t—don’t keep me. I must sit up; I must speak. Will he die? If he dies I shall have killed him. You understand, I—I shall have done it!”
The doctor looked disturbed and distressed. Was this poor little girl mad? Who was she? He had heard of an heiress from Australia: could this be the child? But surely her brain had given way under the extreme pressure and shock!
“Lie still, my dear,” he said gently; and he put his hand on the excited child’s forehead.
“I will be good if you will help me,” said the girl; and she took both his hands in hers and raised her burning eyes to his face.
“I will do anything in my power.”
“Don’t you see what it means to me?—and I must be with him. Is he dead?”
“No, no.”
“Is he in great danger?”
“I will tell you, if you are good, after the doctor from London comes.”
“But I did it.”