"Priscilla told you, perhaps—of a woman fainting—in the road—Tuesday afternoon," Dr. Sunbury got his words out in gasps.
"Yes, yes."
"She is now in this house. Thorburn, she is—the wife you supposed dead."
Mr. Thorburn took in as quickly what had been told him as his dying wife had done. He rose from his chair; the strong man reeled and fell, with a deep groan, and his arms outstretched over the doctor's study table. Dr. Sunbury made no offer of consolation. He covered his face with his hands and wept.
After a pause, Thorburn said: "We must do what is right. My poor Priscilla!"
He suddenly checked himself. Ah, it was but a little while since he had known Priscilla—and the woman up-stairs was the wife of his youth. And he had loved her well. But which one of us would rejoice at having the dead to rise from their graves?
"Will you not see—" said Dr. Sunbury, after a short silence, pointing overhead, where the dying Mrs. Thorburn lay.
"Now? Not yet, not yet. Give me a moment, for God's sake."
"But she is dying; she has not long that she can wait for you."
Thorburn rose at once. "Tell me how it was, before I see her," he asked.