He inquired of the groom that took his horse whether the
countess and Mr. Constantine were at home. The man replied in the
affirmative, but added, with a sad countenance, he feared neither of
them could be seen.
"For what reason?" demanded Somerset.
"Alas! sir," replied the servant, "about an hour ago my lady was
seized with a violent fit of coughing, which ended in the rupture of
a blood-vessel. It continued to flow so long, that Mr. Constantine
told the apothecary, whom he had summoned, to send for a physician.
The doctor is not yet arrived, and Mr. Constantine won't leave my
lady,"
Though Mr. Somerset was truly concerned at the illness of the
countess, the respite it afforded him from immediately declaring the
ungrateful message of Sir Robert gave him no inconsiderable degree of
ease. Somewhat relieved by the hope of being for one day spared the
anguish of displaying his father in a disgraceful light, he entered
the Abbey, and desired that a maid-servant might be sent to her
ladyship's room to inform his friend that Mr. Somerset was below.
In a few minutes the girl returned with the following lines on a slip
of paper:
"To Pembroke Somerset, Esq.
"I am grieved that I cannot see my dear Somerset to-day I fear my
revered friend is on her death-bed. I have sent for Dr. Cavendish,
who is now at Stanford; doubtless you know he is a man of the first
abilities.
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