She could not speak further. All her strength was required to keep herself from falling between her two supporters. "You will not do better in the boat. You mistake your condition," said the President. "Plainly, my conviction is, that if you proceed you will die." "I shall not. I will not. If I stay, I shall not see another day. If I go, I may live to seventy. You do not know me, my lord. You are not entitled to speak of the power of my will." The President and the widow exchanged glances, and no further opposition was offered. "We may as well spare your strength, however," said the President. "The boatmen shall carry you. I will call them. Oh! I see. You are afraid I should give you the slip. But you may release my skirts. Your servants will do us the favour to go forward and send us help." The boatmen looked gloomy about conveying two women--one of them evidently very ill; and Sir Alexander would have refused in any other case whatever. But he had vowed to interfere no more in Lady Carse's affairs, but to consider her wholly the President's charge. "I see your opinion in your face," said the President to him, "and I entirely agree with you. But she is just about to die, at all events; and if it is an indulgence to her to die in the exercise of a freedom from which she has been debarred so long, I am not disposed to deny it to her. I assume the responsibility." "My doubt is about the men," observed Sir Alexander; "but I will do what I can." He did what he could by showing an interest in the embarkation of the lady. He laid the cloaks and plaids for her in the bottom of the boat, and spoke cheerfully to her--almost jokingly--of the uncertainty of their destination. He lifted her in himself, and placed Helsa beside her; and then his men dared not show further unwillingness but by silence. Lady Carse raised herself and beckoned to Annie. Annie leaned over to her, and said, "Dear Lady Carse, you look very pale. It is not too late to say you will come home with me." Lady Carse tried to laugh; but it was no laugh, but a convulsion. She struggled to say, "I shall do very well presently, when I feel I am free. It is only the last prison airs that poison me. If we never meet again--" "We shall not meet in life, Lady Carse. I shall pray for you." "I know you will. And I--I wished to say--but I cannot--" "I know what you would say. Lie down and rest. God be with you!"