“No, thank you. She is well taken care of, I suppose. I am glad she is out of my hands. She was a nuisance to me, and I am not a very edifying example for her. What on earth should I want to see her for?” “I wish I had the good fortune to be a mother.” Susanna laughed. “Never say die, Mrs. Ned. You dont know what may happen to you yet. There now! I know, without opening my eyes, that you are shocked, bless your delicacy! How do you think I should have got through life if I’d been thin-skinned? What good does it do you? You are pining away in this hole of a lodging. You squirm when Mrs. Myers tries to be friendly with you; and I sometimes laugh at your expression when Eliza treats you to a little blarney about your looks. Now _I_ would just as soon gossip and swear at her as go to tea with the Queen.” “I am not shocked at all. You see as badly as other people when your eyes are shut.” “They will soon shut up forever. I half wish they would do it at once, I wonder whether I will get any ease before there is an end of me.” “Perhaps the end of you on earth will be a good beginning for you somewhere else, Susanna.” “Thank you. Now the conversation has taken a nice, cheerful turn, hasnt it? Well, I cant be much worse off than I am at present. Anyhow, I must take my chance.” “Would you like to see a clergyman? I dont want to alarm you: I am sure you will get better: the doctor told me so; but I will go for one if you like.” “No: I dont want to be bothered—at least not yet. Besides, I hate clergymen, all except your brother, the doctor, who fell in love with me.” “Very well. I only suggested it in case you should feel uneasy.” “I dont feel quite easy; but I dont care sufficiently about it to make a fuss. It will be time enough when I am actually at death’s door. All I know is that if there is a place of punishment in the next world, it is very unfair, considering what we suffer in this. I didnt make myself or my circumstances. I think I will try to sleep. I am half dead as it is with pain and weariness. Dont go until I am asleep.” “I will not. Let me get you another pillow.” “No,” said Susanna, drowsily: “dont touch me.” Marian sat listening to her moaning respiration for nearly half an hour. Then, having some letters to write, she went to her own room to fetch her desk. Whilst she was looking for her pen, which was mislaid, she heard Susanna stirring. The floor creaked, and there was a clink as of a bottle. A moment later, Marian, listening with awakened suspicion, was startled by the sound of a heavy fall mingled with a crash of breaking glass. She ran back into the next room just in time to see Susanna, on her hands and knees near the stove, lift her white face for a moment, displaying a bleeding wound on her temple, and then stumble forward and fall prone on the carpet. Marian saw this; saw the walls of the room revolve before her; and fainted upon the sofa, which she had reached without knowing how.