I have been very ill since
I saw you, and poor Marsh nursed me. Talk of women nurses! If ever you
are ill in earnest, as I was, write to me, and I'll send you Marsh. Oh,
I have no words to tell you his patience, his forbearance, his
watchfulness, his tenderness to a sick woman. It is no use--I must
marry him; and I could have no letter published that would give him
pain."
"Of course not. Oh, madam, do you think I am capable of doing anything
that would give you pain, or dear Mr. Marsh either?"
"No, no; you are a good woman."
"Not half so good as you are."
"You don't know what you are saying."
"Oh yes, I do."
"Then I say no more; it is rude to contradict. Good-by, Lady Bassett."
"Must you leave me so soon? Will you not visit us? May I not know the
name of so good a friend?"
"Next week I shall be _Mrs. Marsh."_
"And you will give me the great pleasure of having you at my house--you
and your husband?"
The lady showed some agitation at this--an unusual thing for her. She
faltered: "Some day, perhaps, if I make him as good a wife as I hope
to. What a lady you are! Vulgar people are ashamed to be grateful; but
you are a born lady. Good-by, before I make a fool of myself; and they
are all coming this way, by the dogs' music."
"Won't you kiss me, after bringing me this?"
"Kiss you?" and she opened her eyes.
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