Two days passed. On the third evening in walked Alec, pale and
trembling, evidently ill, too ill to be questioned. His breathing was
short and checked by pain.
"If I hadn't come at once, mother," he said, "I should have been laid
up there. It's pleurisy, Mr Cupples says."
"My poor boy!"
"Oh! I don't care."
"You've been working too hard, dear."
Alec laughed bitterly.
"I did work, mother; but it doesn't matter. She's dead."
"Who's dead?" exclaimed his mother.
"Kate's dead. And I couldn't help it. I tried hard. And it's all my
fault too. Cupples says she's better dead. But I might have saved her."
He started from the sofa, and went pacing about the room, his face
flushed and his breath coming faster and shorter. His mother got him to
lie down again, and asked no more questions. The doctor came and bled
him at the arm, and sent him to bed.
When Annie saw him worn and ill, her heart swelled till she could
hardly bear the aching of it. She would have been his slave, and she
could do nothing. She must leave him instead. She went to her room, put
on her bonnet and cloak, and was leaving the house when Mrs Forbes
caught sight of her.
"Annie! what _do_ you mean, child? You're not going to leave me?"
"I thought you wouldn't want me any more, ma'am.
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