George Douglas was vastly amused at what he heard, and
resolved to experiment a little with the lady, who was so weak as to
notice him only with a slight nod when he first entered the room. He
saw at a glance that nothing in particular was the matter, and when
towards night she lay panting for breath, with her eyes half closed,
he approached her and said, "Madam, in case you die--"
"In case I die!" she whispered indignantly. "It doesn't admit of a
doubt. My feet are as cold as icicles now."
"Certainly," said he. "I beg your pardon; of course you'll die."
The lady turned away rather defiantly for a dying woman, and George
continued, "What I mean to say is this--if Margaret is never found,
you wish the house to be Mr. Carrollton's?"
"Yes, everything, my wardrobe and all," came from beneath the
bedclothes; and George proceeded: "Mr. Carrollton cannot of course
take the house to England, and, as he will need a trusty tenant, would
you object greatly if my father and mother should come here to live?
They'd like it, I--"
The sentence was unfinished--the bunches in the throat which for hours
had prevented the sick woman from speaking aloud, and were eventually
to choke her to death, disappeared; Madam Conway found her voice, and,
starting up, screamed out, "That abominable woman and heathenish girl
in this house, in my house; I'll live forever, first!" and her angry
eyes flashed forth their indignation.
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