Mrs. Brookes
would let no one sit up with her but herself. The earl would have
sent for "a suitable nurse!" a friend of his in London would find
one! but she would not hear of it. And before the night was over she
had greater reason still for refusing to yield her post: it was
evident her young mistress was more occupied with Donal Grant than
with the pain she was suffering! In her delirium she was constantly
desiring his presence. "I know he can help me," she would say; "he
is a shepherd, like the Lord himself!" And mistress Brookes, though
by no means devoid of the prejudices of the rank with which her life
had been so much associated, could not but allow that a nobler life
must be possible with one like Donal Grant than with one like lord
Forgue.
In the middle of the night Arctura became so unquiet, that her
nurse, calling the maid she had in a room near, flew like a bird to
Donal, and asked him to come down. He had but partially undressed,
thinking his help might be wanted, and was down almost as soon as
she. Ere he came, however, she had dismissed the maid.
Donal went to the bedside. Arctura was moaning and starting,
sometimes opening her eyes, but distinguishing nothing. Her hand lay
on the counterpane: he laid his upon it. She gave a sigh as of one
relieved; a smile came flickering over her face, and she lay still
for some time. Donal sat down beside her, and watched.
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