"'And Flora,--she heard?'
"'Flora?' repeated Joseph. 'Don't you know--haven't you any idea--what has happened? It has been terrible!'
"'Tell me at once!' I said. 'Keep nothing back!'
"'Immediately on her return from Marseilles,--you remember that?'
"'Yes, yes! go on!'
"'She established herself here. Nobody could come between her and you; and a brave, true girl she proved herself. Oh, but she was wild about you! She offered the doctors extravagant sums--she would have bribed Heaven itself, if she could--not to let you die. But there came a time,--one night, when you were raving about Margaret,--I tell you, it was terrible! She would have the truth, and so I told her,--everything, from the beginning. It makes me shudder now to think of it,--it struck her so like death!'
"'What did she say?--what did she do?'
"'She didn't say much,--"Oh, my God! my God!"--something like that. The next morning she showed me a letter which she had written to Margaret.'
"'To Margaret?' I started up, but fell back again, helpless, with a groan.
"'Yes,' said Joseph,--'and it was a letter worthy of the noblest woman. I wrote another, for I thought Margaret ought to know everything. It might save her life, and yours, too. In the mean time, I had got worse news from her still,--that her health continued to decline, and that her physician saw no hope for her except in a voyage to Italy. But that she resolutely refused to undertake, until she got those letters. You know the rest.'