“Have mercy, sir,” pleaded the woman, “the poor girl cannot live very long, she is standing on the verge of the dark river. Do not! oh do not, I implore you, turn her thoughts from the only One who can carry her over! I have read to her, I have prayed—”
“Be quiet!” interrupted Frank, for he began to fear there might be some trickery behind all this; lest she might be delaying his entrance in this way, in order to give the girl time to escape. “Be quiet,” he repeated, “and take me at once to the girl, or I shall find my way by myself.” Then the woman yielded, and once more pleading for mercy for her friend, opened a door on her left hand, and Frank found himself in a small, hot room, only lighted by a low fire flickering in the grate.
A faint moaning from the bed denoted it was occupied. “Can you not bring me a light?” said Frank, “I can’t see which way to turn.” At the sound of a man’s voice, a figure started up in the square old-fashioned bed, exclaiming in a high-pitched, feverish voice—
“Have they come for me? Let me die in peace, I entreat you! Oh, sir, I will tell you everything, everything; only let me stay here.” Then, clasping her hands, and swaying herself to and fro she exclaimed—
“Tom knows all about it; I did it for him, only for him!” Then she fell back exhausted, evidently in a high state of delirium, muttering again and again, “Tom, only for Tom.”
Frank readily recognised Lucy’s voice, but it was too dark to see her face. The woman came forward and endeavoured to soothe her; “Hush, Lucy,” she said, “don’t think about Tom now, although God knows I would lay down my life for him. Turn your thoughts to One able to save both you and Tom if you will repent and believe. Hear what He said to the dying thief on the cross.” Then she commenced reciting the Scripture story from memory. But again Frank interrupted her—
“See here,” he said, “I am not a heathen, nor an infidel, but I want to know what you have done towards bringing the girl round. Have you had a doctor in?”
“A doctor, sir,” replied the woman, “since Lucy came into the house I have not ceased reading and praying with her for one five minutes; if it is the Lord’s will she will recover, and live to repent of her sins; but if she must die, why should I waste precious time trying to cure her poor body, while Satan is striving to steal her soul.”
“Hush! my good woman,” said Frank, “I will stay here with your friend, and do my best to fight the devil for you; you must go at once and get a doctor in. Here, take my card, get the best and nearest doctor; tell him I will be answerable for all charges.”
“I go, sir,” replied the woman; then, once more bending over the bed, she murmured, “Lucy, Lucy, while there is yet time, turn to the Lord; do not forget what He has said to all who go to Him in tears and penitence.” Then Frank took her by the arm, and led her out of the room, reminding her that there still might be a chance of saving her friend’s life.
Left thus unexpectedly alone with the girl, Frank determined to make one more effort to get at the truth. How ill she was, he scarcely knew, but getting more accustomed to the dim light of the room, he could see that her face was crimson with fever, and her eyes wild and staring. He approached the bed quietly, and bending over her, said in a low tone—
“Lucy Williams, do you know me? I have come a long way to ask you a question, will you try to answer it?”
The girl started up in bed with a loud cry. “Tom, Tom!” she exclaimed, evidently mistaking Varley for her brother; “Why do you stay here? I thought you were at Liverpool; you will never, never get off!” Then she sank back on her pillows, and recommenced breathing heavily.
Frank waited a few minutes and thought he would try once more. This time he began differently. “Lucy,” he said, in a kind, soothing tone, “I have no doubt your brother is safe somewhere by this time, it is about your young mistress I wish to speak, your dear Miss Amy. Can you tell me where she is or do you know what led her to leave her home?” But now the girl’s terror redoubled; she clasped her hands and hid her face in the pillows. “Do not take me away, sir,” she implored, “let me die here in peace! I did it for Tom—he knows, he will tell you—only leave me here till the morning?” Then her mutterings became incoherent, and she tossed wildly from side to side.
It was evidently useless; nothing more could then be attempted, and Varley drew away from the bed and leant against the window ledge. Had he been of an imaginative temperament, the scene in which he was playing a part would have excited his nerves horribly. Not a sound in the house save the tick, tick, of a large Dutch clock fixed in a corner near the window. Now and then a feeble flame would spring up in the half-filled grate and cast a gaunt shadow across the ceiling. A badly silvered oval mirror hung over the mantelpiece and seemed to reflect all sorts of weird shapes; and every now and then, from the poor worn out bed in the darkest corner of the room, came a sob or moan, or the girl’s half-muttered delirious fancies.
“I shall be glad when this is over,” said Frank to himself. “How long that woman is. The girl may be dead before morning and we none the wiser for what she knows!” He tried to catch a
