"Have you not?" inquired Mrs. Harrison calmly.
"Has the bird, whose wing is broken, the power to fly?" asked Kate.
"Unless you make an effort to throw off your present state of mind, you cannot live. And are you willing to die, and leave this dear child in the hands of those who cannot love it as you do?"
"Has it not already been taken from me? Does it not draw its existence from another breast?"
"But your health required—"
"My health! mother! My very life depended upon the privilege you have all denied me. Do you want the proof? Look at that shadowy hand"—and she held up the thin white member against the light, which almost shone through it—"and at this shrunken face," and she laid her hand upon her colourless cheek. "Restore the fountain that has been dried, and let my babe drink at it, and there is some hope. None without."
"That is impossible, Kate"—
"And just as impossible is my return to health through the means proposed."
"But, for the sake of your friends, you ought to be willing to try the means of restoration prescribed by a physician in whom we all have confidence."
"Friends?" said Kate, half to herself. "Friends? Have I any friends?"