When she saw Mary seated by the bed, though
she must have known well enough she was there, she drew herself
up with grand English repellence, and looked scandalized. Mary
rose, and was about to retire. But Mr. Redmain motioned her to
sit still.
"This is my spiritual adviser, Lady Margaret," he said.
Her ladyship cast a second look on Mary, such as few but her
could cast, and left the room.
On into the gloom of the evening Mary sat. No one brought her
anything to eat or drink, and Mr. Redmain was too much taken up
with himself, soul and body, to think of her. She was now past
hunger, and growing faint, when, through the settled darkness,
the words came to her from the bed:
"I should like to have you near me when I am dying, Mary."
The voice was a softer than she had yet heard from Mr. Redmain,
and its tone went to her heart.
"I will certainly be with you, if God please," she answered.
"There is no fear of God," returned Mr. Redmain; "it's the devil
will try to keep you away. But never you heed what any one may do
or say to prevent you. Do your very best to be with me. By that
time I may not be having my own way any more. Be sure, the first
moment they can get the better of me, they will. And you mustn't
place confidence in a single soul in this house. I don't say my
wife would play me false so long as I was able to swear at her,
but I wouldn't trust her one moment longer.
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