“I am; but need we enter into the subject now?”
“No, no. You look worn out. Are your nerves troubling you, nurse?”
“They are a little. I am overdone. I did not think I should find it so hard. I did it for your sake, remember. I have imperiled my soul for you.”
A sneer crossed Tarbot’s lips. He did not reply at all to this statement.
“When is the funeral to be?” asked the nurse.
“On Saturday.”
The woman gave a shudder.
“You are trembling. I must give you a tonic,” said Tarbot with some anxiety.
“I do not need any tonic. I shall be all right when the funeral has taken place—that is all. Where is the child to be buried?”
“In the family vault in Devonshire. There is a chapel attached to Pelham Towers, and a consecrated graveyard—the vault of the Pelhams is there.”