"But a few short minutes," she exclaimed, "and then fare you well. I feel worse than I ever yet remember--and very cold. It is not now the complaint that has cast me down upon a sick-bed that seems invading the very principle of life--a chilly faintness is coming over me--yet I dare not lay my head upon my pillow, lest I never from thence lift it again. Ralph, here is a warmth in your young blood--support me!" I cradled her head upon my shoulder, and whispered to Miss Tremayne, who immediately retired, to procure the speedy attendance of the physician. "Are we alone, Ralph?" said the shuddering lady, with her eyes firmly closed. "I have a horrid presentiment that my hour is approaching-- everything is so still around and within me. Every sensation seems deserting me rapidly, but one--and that is a mother's feeling! You will leave me here to die, amongst menials and strangers!" "Miss Tremayne?" said I, soothingly. "Is but a hired companion; engaged only since the occurrence of these attacks. Yes, you will desert me to these--and for what, God of retribution!--to hunt down the life of my only son! Will you, will you, Ralph, do this over-cruel thing?" "He has attempted mine--he still seeks it. Let us talk, let us think, of other matters. Compose your mind with religious thoughts. Your strength will rally during the night; to-morrow comes hope, the consultation of physicians, and, with God's good blessings, life and health." "To hear, to know, that he is to die the death of the felon! Promise me to forego your purpose, or let me die first!" "I have sworn over the grave of my mother that the laws shall decide this matter between us. If he escape, I forgive him, and may God forgive him, too!" "And must it come to this?" she sobbed forth in the bitterness of her anguish, whilst the tears streamed down her cheeks from her closed eyelids. "Will this cruel youth at length extort the horrible confession!--it must be so--one pang--and it will be over. Let me forego your support--lay me gently on the pillow, for you will loathe me. A little while ago, and I told you I had been faithful to him--it was a bitter falsehood--know, that my son, my abandoned William, is also the son of your father--say, will his blood now be upon your hands?" "Tell me, beautiful cause of all our miseries, does your miserable offspring know this?" "Yes," said she, very faintly. "Yet he could seek my life--basely--but no matter. His blood shall never stain my hand--I will not seek him--if he crosses my path, I will avoid him--I will even assist him to escape to some country where, unknown, he may, by a regenerated life, wipe out the dark catalogue of his crimes, make his peace with man here, and with his God hereafter." "Will you do all this, my generous, my good, my godlike Ralph?" "You and God be my witnesses!"