But to plunge blindly into the unknown!" "I had to! I had to!" She had told him only the first part of her story. "Is it poison?" she asked. ’ ‘Oh, she’ll be safe enough, Gerald. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. “Now she’s all hat and ideas,” he said, with an air of humor. Spurling attended him as his nurse, and, under her care, he speedily revived. His own heart was too full of melancholy foreboding. I cannot turn into a bat. Let us be friends—as near and close as friends can be. He seemed safe from the sickness, having been surrounded by the dying, he had witnessed the carnage up close and yet his health still prevailed.
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