She looked so
unlike herself, so like a spirit, that he dropped his cigar and stared
aghast.
"Is she dead?" he asked.
"She is dying," Mollie answered. "I came to tell you I will stay to the
last--I will not leave her again. You can not, need not wait longer
here, Mr. Ingelow."
"I will not leave you," Mr. Ingelow said, resolutely, "if I have to stay
a week. Good heavens, Mollie! what do you think I am, to leave you alone
and unprotected in this beastly place?"
"I will be safe enough," Mollie said with a wan smile at his vehemence.
"I dare say the worst crime these poor people are guilty of is poverty."
"I will not leave you," Hugh Ingelow reiterated. "I will go upstairs and
stay in the passage all night if you will find me a chair. I may be
needed."
"You are so kind!" raising her eloquent eyes; "but it is too much--"
"Not one whit too much. Don't let us waste words over a trifle. Let us
go up."
He ran lightly up the rickety staircase, and Mollie, pausing a moment to
tap at Mrs. Slimmens' door, and ask her to share her last vigil, slowly
followed, and returned to the solemn chamber of death.
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