"Adèle,—how is she? Tell me!"
"Ill,—very ill," said the Doctor, shaking himself from her grasp, and continued in his solemn manner, "it is an hour to be at home, woman!"
But she, paying no heed to his admonition, says,—
"I must see her,—I must!"—and dashes back toward the parsonage.
The Doctor, terrified, follows after. But he can keep no manner of pace with that swift, dark figure that glides before him. He comes to the porch panting. The door is closed. Has the infuriated woman gone in? No, for presently her grasp is again upon his arm: for a moment she had sunk, exhausted by fatigue, or overcome by emotion, upon the porch. Her tone is more subdued.
"I entreat you, good Doctor, let me see Adèle!—for Christ's sake, if you be His minister, let me see her!"
"Impossible, woman, impossible!" says the Doctor, more than ever satisfied of her Satanic character by what he counts her blasphemous speech. "Adaly is delirious,—fearfully excited; it would destroy her. The only hope is in perfect quietude."
The woman releases her grasp.
"Please, Doctor, let me come to-morrow. I must see her! I will see her!"
"You shall not," said the Doctor, with solemnity,—"never, with my permission. Go to your home, woman, and pray God to have mercy on you."