"It will not hurt her!" said Lady Thornyhaugh, in a whisper from behind the curtain. "Let her say her say and ease her mind."
"I am ready to go!" repeated Amabel. "But, oh, Lucy! I want to see my father and Walter. I want to see my father once more—to tell him—to warn him—"
Her voice failed for a moment. I gave her a little wine and she went on.
"Lucy, if I never see him again, tell him that I could not help acting as I did. If he ever feels sorry, tell him that I forgive him where there is anything to forgive. And tell Walter I always loved him; tell him to go on as he is doing. We shall meet again."
She could say no more, and for some hours we thought she would never speak again.
The doctor, a sensible man, gave us very little hope.
"The disease is mostly of the mind, but it is wearing out the body!" said he. "If she could be thoroughly roused and the current of her thoughts changed, it would give her the best chance."
Lady Thornyhaugh followed the doctor from the room, and had a somewhat lengthened conference with him, in the course of which I was surprised to hear the doctor laugh.
"The very thing, madam!" I heard him say. "I would go for him myself, if I could leave my patients."
"Who would the doctor go for?" I asked, when Lady Thornyhaugh came back.