"I think I am strong enough. Your coming has put new life and hope into me," answered the grateful creature.
"Go on, then," said he. "Did the wicked Colville abduct her from her home?"
"Worse than that, sir. She was a young lady who was murdered by a jealous woman. A Doctor Pratt, the friend and abettor of Colville in all his sins, was called in to view the body of the murdered girl. He pronounced her dead. In reality he discovered that she was in a curious condition known to the medical profession as catalepsy. He suffered them to bury her, then stole her body from the vault and sold it to Colville, who was in love with her. They brought her here, used every means to bring her to life, and at length succeeded. She revived after four days and found herself the prisoner of my husband, dead to all the world beside, and doomed never to see her friends again unless she consented to become his wife."
She paused, overcome by exhaustion.
Mr. Shelton sat white and rigid on the foot of the cot regarding her fixedly. He seemed frozen into a statue. At length he gasped rather than spoke:
"Her name?"
Fanny Colville's wasted hand went up to her brow in painful perplexity.
"I do not seem to recollect it. Strange that I should forget. I am sure she told me," she murmured.
"Try and think of it, Mrs. Colville. Much depends upon it," urged Shelton, anxiously.