"I know," frowned the other; "and I've tried--day after day I've tried.
But there's nothing. I've exhausted every means in my power. I didn't
know but you--" He paused questioningly.
The younger man shook his head.
"No," he said. "If you can't, I can't. You've been her physician for
years. If anyone knows how to reach her, you should know. I suppose
you've thought of--her son?"
"Oh, yes. Jed was sent for long ago, but he had gone somewhere into the
interior on a prospecting trip, and was very hard to reach. It is
doubtful if word gets to him at all until--too late. As you know,
perhaps, it is rather an unfortunate case. He has not been home for
years, anyway, and the Nortons--James is Mrs. Darling's nephew--have
been making all the capital they can out of it, and have been
prejudicing her against him--quite unjustly, in my opinion, for I think
it's nothing more nor less than thoughtlessness on the boy's part."
"Hm-m; too bad, too bad!" murmured the other, as he turned and led the
way to the street door.
Back in the sick-room the old woman still lay motionless on the bed. She
was wondering--as she had wondered so often before--why it took so long
to die. For days now she had been trying to die, decently and in order.
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