You can never think of me again except with
loathing--with horror."
The impression Miss Fewbanks received was that her visitor had taken
leave of her senses. This impression was deepened by Mrs. Holymead's
next remark.
"I want you to save my husband."
There was an awkward pause while Mrs. Holymead waited for a reply and
Miss Fewbanks wondered what was the best thing to do.
"Say you will save him!" exclaimed Mrs. Holymead. "Do what you like with
me, but save him."
"Don't you think, dear, you would be better if you had a rest and a
little sleep?" said Miss Fewbanks. "I am sure you could sleep if you
tried. Come upstairs and I'll make you so comfortable."
"You think I am mad," said the elder woman. "Would to God that I was."
"Come, dear," said Miss Fewbanks coaxingly. She turned to the door and
prepared to lead the way upstairs.
"Sleep!" exclaimed Mrs. Holymead bitterly. "I have not had a peaceful
sleep since your father was killed. I have been haunted day and night. I
cannot sleep."
"I know it was a dreadful shock to you, but you must not take it so much
to heart. You must see your doctor and do what he tells you. Mr. Holymead
should send you away.
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