The teacher assented, and Beatrice shook hands with her and bade
her good-night. She would have wished to say how much she felt indebted
to her for her help in the school, but did not like to do so, fearing
lest, in the light of pending events, the remark might be viewed with
suspicion.
Poor Beatrice, these were the only lies she ever told!
She left the teacher's lodgings, and was about to go down to the beach
and sit there till it was time, when she was met by the father of the
crazed child, Jane Llewellyn.
"Oh, Miss Beatrice," he said, "I have been looking for you everywhere.
We are in sad trouble, miss. Poor Jane is in a raving fit, and talking
about hell and that, and the doctor says she's dying. Can you come,
miss, and see if you can do anything to quiet her? It's a matter of life
and death, the doctor says, miss."
Beatrice smiled sadly; matters of life and death were in the air. "I
will come," she said, "but I shall not be able to stay long."
How could she better spend her last hour?
She accompanied the man to his cottage. The child, dressed only in a
night-shirt, was raving furiously, and evidently in the last stage of
exhaustion, nor could the doctor or her mother do anything to quiet her.
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