Finding myself alone with Lady Verinder, I turned naturally to the subject of her health; touching delicately on the strange anxiety which she had shown to conceal her indisposition, and the remedy applied to it, from the observation of her daughter.

My aunt’s reply greatly surprised me.

“Drusilla,” she said (if I have not already mentioned that my Christian name is Drusilla, permit me to mention it now), “you are touching quite innocently, I know—­on a very distressing subject.”

I rose immediately.  Delicacy left me but one alternative—­the alternative, after first making my apologies, of taking my leave.  Lady Verinder stopped me, and insisted on my sitting down again.

“You have surprised a secret,” she said, “which I had confided to my sister Mrs. Ablewhite, and to my lawyer Mr. Bruff, and to no one else.  I can trust in their discretion; and I am sure, when I tell you the circumstances, I can trust in yours.  Have you any pressing engagement, Drusilla? or is your time your own this afternoon?”

It is needless to say that my time was entirely at my aunt’s disposal.

“Keep me company then,” she said, “for another hour.  I have something to tell you which I believe you will be sorry to hear.  And I shall have a service to ask of you afterwards, if you don’t object to assist me.”

It is again needless to say that, so far from objecting, I was all eagerness to assist her.

“You can wait here,” she went on, “till Mr. Bruff comes at five.  And you can be one of the witnesses, Drusilla, when I sign my Will.”

Her Will!  I thought of the drops which I had seen in her work-box.  I thought of the bluish tinge which I had noticed in her complexion.  A light which was not of this world—­a light shining prophetically from an unmade grave—­dawned on my mind.  My aunt’s secret was a secret no longer.

CHAPTER III

Consideration for poor Lady Verinder forbade me even to hint that I had guessed the melancholy truth, before she opened her lips.  I waited her pleasure in silence; and, having privately arranged to say a few sustaining words at the first convenient opportunity, felt prepared for any duty that could claim me, no matter how painful it might be.

“I have been seriously ill, Drusilla, for some time past,” my aunt began.  “And, strange to say, without knowing it myself.”

I thought of the thousands and thousands of perishing human creatures who were all at that moment spiritually ill, without knowing it themselves.  And I greatly feared that my poor aunt might be one of the number.  “Yes, dear,” I said, sadly.  “Yes.”

“I brought Rachel to London, as you know, for medical advice,” she went on.  “I thought it right to consult two doctors.”

Two doctors!  And, oh me (in Rachel’s state), not one clergyman!  “Yes, dear?” I said once more.  “Yes?”