"Dear Miss Crawford, I have come to ask you to do something for my poor cousin, something which only you can do. You heard what Mr. Bertram said, of his dangerous state, and it distressed you as much as us, I know. I would not for a moment seek to pry into your inmost feelings, but we are come to matters of life and death, and it is on _his_ account that I do venture to ask you, if you feel that you could listen to him if he were here, then will you send him a word, a message, something to show that you are thinking of him?" Mary replied after a minute or two, in a stifled voice: "I would send him such a message, but do you think he would care to have it?" "I do, indeed, most truly. I understand your hesitation; you think you cannot speak of love to him, when he has not spoken to you; but I would stake my life on his devotion and faithfulness. The words you send him will bring comfort and peace of mind, whatever the issue." Mary shuddered, and withdrew her trembling hands. "Mr. Bertram seems to think he will die." "We cannot tell; he is a strong man and had not had the best advice when Mr. Bertram was there. We can only hope, and my husband is starting almost immediately, and will carry any message you feel able to send, trusting that he will be in time to deliver it." "Oh, yes, yes," exclaimed Mary, rising and walking restlessly about the room; "he is so good and generous that if he still cares, he would overlook all, he would pardon the errors and foolishness that have led to this misunderstanding--but the past, Mrs. Darcy, does he know and forgive that? I wish I could tell. Seeing Mr. Bertram brings it all back again--my brother, his sister--the divorce--what Lady Catherine heard, the world believes, you know--and just when one repents it all most, it comes back just like a spectre to haunt one." Elizabeth replied very earnestly: "At such a time as this, it would be cruel to mislead you, and I only say what I sincerely believe, that Colonel Fitzwilliam knows everything to which you refer, and it makes not the smallest difference to him. It would not, you should be aware, to any man whose love was worthy of the name. That should not weigh with you for a moment. The only thing that signifies in the least is whether you can return that love: the only barrier between you is being unable to return it. I would not urge you against your will, or take advantage of a moment of strong emotion; you alone know whether it would make you happier to send a word of hope to him." "Happier? Ah, I do not know," said Mary sorrowfully. "I do not seem able to think of happiness. And yet, I should be glad for him to know, since you think he still cares to know, and it is all I can now do for him. You need not be afraid of my not trusting my feelings, Mrs. Darcy. This has shown me all too late what they really are, though my folly and obstinacy have blinded me all these months."