"Try and get Miss Vernon out of the room."
Her quick ear caught his words.
"Why should I go? I can assist you to revive him."
"But—but—" stammered the doctor, fairly terror struck, at the thought of all the wild grief implied by her incredulity, "If I do not succeed?"
"Oh! hush, hush, it is not two hours since he blessed me, and said he was happy! Grandpapa, do not you hear? it is I—your own Kate! Why do you make no effort to recover him?" she exclaimed, turning almost fiercely to the doctor—"Where is your skill? Where is your science?"
"If you will leave the room," he returned, recovering himself. "I will do my best, but the consciousness that you, in your extreme anxiety, are watching me, will paralyse my best efforts."
"I will go then, and return in a few minutes," said Kate, retiring.
But these few minutes were employed in stretching the lifeless form on its bed; and then nurse met her child, in an agony of tears, that told her better than words could, that she was alone in the world!
Then, at last she was convinced, she did not faint or weep, but stood quite still, regardless of the well meant words of those around her, a sudden tremour passing at intervals through her frame; at last, turning to those, who pressed near her, she said, in strangely quiet tones, almost a whisper, but terribly earnest—
"Leave me, I wish to be alone." Then seeing they hesitated to leave her, she repeated with a sudden sharpness of voice and gesture of dismissal, which long remained in the memories of those who witnessed it, so expressively did it seem to reject all human aid, or sympathy: "I wish to be alone!"