But at length, when they had almost begun to despair of her recovery, her illness took a sudden turn for the better.
She began to convalesce slowly but surely, and one day she turned the nurses out of the room and sent for her Uncle Robert.
"I want to ask you something," she said, putting her feverish, wasted little hand into his strong, tender clasp.
"I am listening, dear," he answered, kindly.
"Has—has that divorce been granted yet?" she inquired, flushing slightly.
"Oh, no, my dear. Your husband has applied for it, but they have been waiting since your illness to know what steps you will take in the matter—whether or not you would engage a lawyer and contest the divorce. I would not give them any satisfaction while you were sick, for I thought you might change your mind."
"I have changed my mind, Uncle Rob," she said. "I mean to contest the divorce. There is a reason now" (she blushed and drooped her eyes from his perplexed gaze) "why I should try to save my fair fame as much as I can. Not that I wish to live with Lawrence again, whether there is a divorce or not, but I wish to defend my own honor and leave behind me as pure a name as I can. You will secure an able lawyer for me, will you not, Uncle Robbie?"
"Yes, darling, you shall have the best counsel that money can procure," he answered, deeply moved at her earnest words.