“She is here,” said the chaplain.
The dying woman raised her eyes, and beheld Mildred standing before her, wrapped in a loose robe, and supported by Emmeline and Rose Hartley.
Behind them was Chetwynd, who closed the door after him as he came in.
Mildred's countenance was exceedingly pale; but her eyes were bright, and her looks seemed almost angelic to the despairing Teresa, who crept humbly towards her.
“I do not deserve pardon,” said the penitent woman. “Yet for the sake of Him who died for us, and washed out our sins with His blood, I implore you to forgive me!”
“I do forgive you,” rejoined Mildred. “I have come hither for that purpose. May Heaven have mercy upon you!”
“Since your repentance is sincere, daughter,” said the chaplain, “may your sins be blotted out, and the guilt of your many offences be remitted.”
“Amen!” exclaimed Chetwynd.
“Then farewell!” said Teresa, in a faint voice. “Farewell, Emmeline! farewell, Chetwynd! Think not of me with abhorrence; but, if you can, with pity!”
Without a word more, she sank backwards, and expired.