Thomas Godolphin stood looking at her. There was nothing to answer: he had _known_, in his deep and trusting love, that the fault had not lain with Ethel. She mistook his silence, thinking he was vexed. "You know, Thomas, so long as I am here in mamma's home, her child, it is to her that I owe obedience," she gently pleaded. "As soon as I shall be your wife, I shall owe it and give it implicitly to you." "You are right, my darling." "And it has produced no ill consequences," she resumed. "I did not catch the fever. Had I found myself growing in the least ill, I should have sent for you and told you the truth." "Ethel?" he impulsively cried--very impulsively for calm Thomas Godolphin; "had you caught the fever, I should never have forgiven those who led you into danger. I _could_ not lose you." "Hark!" said Ethel. "Mamma is calling." Lady Sarah had been calling to Mr. Godolphin. Thinking she was not heard, she now came downstairs and entered the room, wringing her hands; her eyes were overflowing, her sharp thin nose was redder than usual. "Oh dear! I don't know what we shall do with her!" she uttered. "She is so ill, and it makes her so fretful. Mr. Godolphin, nothing will satisfy her now but she must see you." "See me!" repeated he. "She will, she says. I told her you were departing for Scotland, and she burst out crying, and said if she were to die she should never see you again. Do you mind going in? You are not afraid?" "No, I am not afraid," said Thomas Godolphin. "Infection cannot have remained all this time. And if it had, I should not fear it." Lady Sarah Grame led the way upstairs. Thomas followed her. Ethel stole in afterwards. Sarah Anne lay in bed, her thin face, drawn and white, raised upon the pillow; her hollow eyes were strained forward with a fixed look. Ill as he had been led to suppose her, he was scarcely prepared to see her like this; and it shocked him. A cadaverous face, looking ripe for the tomb. "Why have you never come to see me?" she asked in her hollow voice, as he approached and leaned over her. "You'd never have come till I died. You only care for Ethel." "I would have come to see you had I known you wished it," he answered. "But you do not look strong enough to receive visitors." "They might cure me, if they would," she continued, panting for breath. "I want to go away somewhere, and that Snow won't let me. If it were Ethel, he would take care to cure _her_." "He will let you go as soon as you are equal to it, I am sure," said Thomas Godolphin. "Why should the fever have come to me at all?--Why couldn't it have gone to Ethel instead? She's strong. She would have got well in no time. It's not fair----" "My dear child, my dear, dear child, you must not excite yourself," implored Lady Sarah, abruptly interrupting her.