Part 30 (2/2)

Dangerously ill? I conclude so from Mellefont's pa.s.sionate anxiety more than from my own feelings. Suppose, Waitwell, you should have to go with an unfinished letter from your unhappy Sara to her still more unhappy father! Let us hope for the best! Will you wait until to-morrow? Perhaps I shall find a few good moments to finish off the letter to your satisfaction. At present, I cannot do so. This hand hangs as if dead by my benumbed side. If the whole body dies away as easily as these limbs----you are an old man, Waitwell, and cannot be far from the last scene. Believe me, if that which I feel is the approach of death, then the approach of death is not so bitter. Ah! Do not mind this sigh! Wholly without unpleasant sensation it cannot be.

Man could not be void of feeling; he must not be impatient. But, Betty, why are you so inconsolable?

BETTY.

Permit me, Miss, permit me to leave you.

SARA.

Go; I well know it is not every one who can bear to be with the dying.

Waitwell shall remain with me! And you, Norton, will do me a favour, if you go and look for your master. I long for his presence.

BETTY (_going_).

Alas, Norton, I took the medicine from Marwood's hands!

Scene VIII.

Waitwell, Sara.

SARA.

Waitwell, if you will do me the kindness to remain with me, you must not let me see such a melancholy face. You are mute! Speak, I pray! And if I may ask it, speak of my father! Repeat all the comforting words which you said to me a few hours ago. Repeat them to me, and tell me too, that the Eternal Heavenly Father cannot be less merciful. I can die with that a.s.surance, can I not? Had this befallen me before your arrival, how would I have fared? I should have despaired, Waitwell. To leave this world burdened with the hatred of him, who belies his nature when he is forced to hate--what a thought! Tell him that I died with the feelings of the deepest remorse, grat.i.tude and love. Tell him--alas, that I shall not tell him myself--how full my heart is of all the benefits I owe to him. My life was the smallest amongst them.

Would that I could yield up at his feet the ebbing portion yet remaining!

WAITWELL.

Do you really wish to see him, Miss?

SARA.

At length you speak--to doubt my deepest, my last desire!

WAITWELL.

Where shall I find the words which I have so long been vainly seeking?

A sudden joy is as dangerous as a sudden terror. I fear only that the effect of his unexpected appearance might be too violent for so tender a heart!

SARA.

What do you mean? The unexpected appearance of whom?

WAITWELL.

Of the wished-for one! Compose yourself!

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