He's better."
"Who's that whispering?" murmured the patient, angrily, though
half asleep.
Mewks went in, and answered:
"Only me and Jemima, sir."
"Where's Miss Marston?"
"She's not come yet, sir."
"I want to go to sleep again. You must wake me the moment she
comes."
"Yes, sir."
Mewks went back to Sepia.
"His voice is much altered," she said.
"He most always speaks like that now, miss, when he wakes--very
different from I used to know him! He'd always swear bad when he
woke; but Miss Marston do seem t' 'ave got a good deal of that
out of him. Anyhow, this last two days he's scarce swore enough
to make it feel home-like."
"It's death has got it out of him," said Sepia. "I don't think he
can last the night through. Fetch me at once if--And don't let
that Marston into the room again, whatever you do."
She spoke with the utmost emphasis, plainly clinching
instructions previously given, then went slowly up the stair to
her own room. Surely he would die to-night, and she would not be
led into temptation! She would then have but to get a hold of the
paper! What a hateful and unjust thing it was that her life
should be in the power of that man--a miserable creature, himself
hanging between life and death!--that such as he should be able
to determine her fate, and say whether she was to be comfortable
or miserable all the rest of a life that was to outlast his so
many years! It was absurd to talk of a Providence! She must be
her own providence!
She stole again down the stair.
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