On
making inquiry at the hospital, she was told the one she sought was
not there, and she was about returning to the city, when the truth
reached her ears.
"Is he very ill?" she asked, struggling to compose herself.
"Yes, he is extremely ill," was the reply. "And it might not be well
for you, under the circumstances, to see him at present."
"Not well for his wife to see him?" returned Agnes. Tears sprung to
her eyes at the thought of not being permitted to come near in his
extremity. "Do not say that. Oh, take me to him! I will save his
life."
"You must be very calm," said the nurse; for it was with her she was
talking. "The least excitement may be fatal."
"Oh, I will be calm and prudent." Yet, even while she spoke, her
frame quivered with excitement.
But she controlled herself when the moment of meeting came, and,
though her unexpected appearance produced a shock, it was salutary
rather than injurious.
"My dear, dear Agnes!" said Edward Marvel, a month from this time,
as they sat alone in the chamber of a pleasant house in New York, "I
owe you my life. But for your prompt resolution to follow me across
the sea, I would, in all probability, now be sleeping the sleep of
death.
Pages:
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189