Here's my blanket for you.I don't mind the cold--it will keep me awake.""You are very kind--very, very kind and thoughtful, Sally," says I, "but I am too wretched in my mind to want sleep, or rest, or to do anything but wait where I am, and try and hope for the best.""Then I'll wait, too," says Sally."I must do something; if there's nothing to do but waiting, I'll wait."And she sat down opposite me at the foot of the bed, and drew the blanket close round her with a shiver.
"After working so hard as you do, I'm sure you must want all the little rest you can get," says I.
"Excepting only you," says Sally, putting her heavy arm very clumsily, but very gently at the same time, round Mary's feet, and looking hard at the pale, still face on the pillow.
"Excepting you, she's the only soul in this house as never swore at me, or give me a hard word that I can remember.When you made puddings on Sundays, and give her half, she always give me a bit.
The rest of 'em calls me Dusty Sal.Excepting only you, again, she always called me Sally, as if she knowed me in a friendly way.I ain't no good here, but I ain't no harm, neither; and Ishall take my turn at the sitting up--that's what I shall do!"She nestled her head down close at Mary's feet as she spoke those words, and said no more.I once or twice thought she had fallen asleep, but whenever I looked at her her heavy eyes were always wide open.She never changed her position an inch till the church clocks struck six; then she gave one little squeeze to Mary's feet with her arm, and shuffled out of the room without a word.Aminute or two after, I heard her down below, lighting the kitchen fire just as usual.
A little later the doctor stepped over before his breakfast-time to see if there had been any change in the night.He only shook his head when he looked at her as if there was no hope.Having nobody else to consult that I could put trust in, I showed him the end of the cravat, and told him of the dreadful suspicion that had arisen in my mind when I found it in her hand.
"You must keep it carefully, and produce it at the inquest," he said."I don't know, though, that it is likely to lead to anything.The bit of stuff may have been lying on the pavement near her, and her hand may have unconsciously clutched it when she fell.Was she subject to fainting-fits?""Not more so, sir, than other young girls who are hard-worked and anxious, and weakly from poor living," I answered.
"I can't say that she may not have got that blow from a fall,"the doctor went on, locking at her temple again."I can't say that it presents any positive appearance of having been inflicted by another person.It will be important, however, to ascertain what state of health she was in last night.Have you any idea where she was yesterday evening?"I told him where she was employed at work, and said I imagined she must have been kept there later than usual.
"I shall pass the place this morning" said the doctor, "in going my rounds among my patients, and I'll just step in and make some inquiries."I thanked him, and we parted.Just as he was closing the door he looked in again.
"Was she your sister?" he asked.
"No, sir, only my dear friend."
He said nothing more, but I heard him sigh as he shut the door softly.Perhaps he once had a sister of his own, and lost her?
Perhaps she was like Mary in the face?
The doctor was hours gone away.I began to feel unspeakably forlorn and helpless, so much so as even to wish selfishly that Robert might really have sailed from America, and might get to London in time to assist and console me.
No living creature came into the room but Sally.The first time she brought me some tea; the second and third times she only looked in to see if there was any change, and glanced her eye toward the bed.I had never known her so silent before; it seemed almost as if this dreadful accident had struck her dumb.I ought to have spoken to her, perhaps, but there was something in her face that daunted me; and, besides, the fever of anxiety I was in began to dry up my lips, as if they would never be able to shape any words again.I was still tormented by that frightful apprehension of the past night, that she would die without my knowing it--die without saying one word to clear up the awful mystery of this blow, and set the suspicions at rest forever which I still felt whenever my eyes fell on the end of the old cravat.
At last the doctor came back.
"I think you may safely clear your mind of any doubts to which that bit of stuff may have given rise," he said."She was, as you supposed, detained late by her employers, and she fainted in the work-room.They most unwisely and unkindly let her go home alone, without giving her any stimulant, as soon as she came to her senses again.Nothing is more probable, under these circumstances, than that she should faint a second time on her way here.A fall on the pavement, without any friendly arm to break it, might have produced even a worse injury than the injury we see.I believe that the only ill usage to which the poor girl was exposed was the neglect she met with in the work-room.""You speak very reasonably, I own, sir," said I, not yet quite convinced."Still, perhaps she may--""My poor girl, I told you not to hope," said the doctor, interrupting me.He went to Mary, and lifted up her eyelids, and looked at her eyes while he spoke; then added, "If you still doubt how she came by that blow, do not encourage the idea that any words of hers will ever enlighten you.She will never speak again.""Not dead! Oh, sir, don't say she's dead!""She is dead to pain and sorrow--dead to speech and recognition.
