"Mrs. Kenyon," he said, turning to Beatrix with a look in his sad, gray eyes which touched her heart in spite of herself, "will you go to Mrs. Ray? She is asking for you, and I think that there is something upon her mind which will not be relieved until she has seen you."
[CHAPTER XXXII.]
A DEATH BED.
Beatrix rose from her seat at her husband's side and left the room in obedience to Doctor Darrow. Entering the ward where Mrs. Ray was lying, she went to the bedside and seated herself in a chair that stood near. The sick woman's eyes were wide open and fixed upon her face with an eager look of inquiry, as though longing to ask a question which, after all, she feared to put into words. Beatrix bent over the woman's pillow, and her eyes rested kindly upon the white, pain-distorted face.
"You wished to see me, Doctor Darrow says," Beatrix began at once.
A look of eager interest flashed over the sunken features, and one cold hand grasped the girl's arm in a vise-like grip. Her eyes glowed with a wild, supernatural light, her breath came and went in feeble, fitful gasps pitiful to witness.
"Yes—yes; I want to see you. I always want to see you," she panted, brokenly. "Come—come here. There, child, kneel down beside me where I can see your dear face; and—and take me in your arms, Beatrix, won't you? You will surely not refuse my last request?"
"No, indeed. If I can ease your pain in any way, or do anything for you, I will be so glad."