With wonderful strength and self-command for one recovering from such a seizure, she dictated the message that Arthur received the same night.
“Doctor, can you have this sent at once?” she inquired.
He replied dubiously:
“I will do so as soon as possible, but the telegraph line is very busy. There are seven victims.”
“Poor souls!—this must go at once at any cost. Do you hear, doctor? Send it at once if it costs a little fortune! They are so far away, his friends—and what if they come—too late!” her proud voice breaking.
“I will do my best—and as for you, madame, I advise you to rest quietly in your bed all night, or I will not answer for the consequences to your outraged nerves.”
“I tell you, sir, I will get up and go to that dying man at whatever cost to myself.”
“What an imperious woman!” he thought, and answered aloud:
“At least lie here until I send off the telegram and bring you news of my patient.”
“Tell me first, is there any immediate prospect of his death?” shudderingly.