‘Oh—­oh—­o—­o—­oh, Mr. Dangerfield, you don’t—­you don’t think so,’ wildly cried the poor little lady, growing quite white with terror and agony.

’Now, pray, my dear Mistress Sturk, compose yourself, and hear me out:  ’Tis my belief he has a chance; but none, absolutely no chance, Madam, unless my advice be taken.  There’s not an evening, Ma’am, I meet Doctor Toole at the club, but I hear the same report—­a little lower—­always the same—­lower—­sinking—­and no hope.’

Here Mrs. Sturk broke out again.

‘Now, Madam,’ I protest you’ll make me regret my visit, unless you please to command yourself.  While the doctors who are about him have got him in hands, there’s neither hope for his life, nor for his recovering, for one moment, the use of his speech.  Pray, Madam, hear me.  They state as much themselves.  Now, Madam, I say, we must have a chance for his life, and if that fails, a chance for his speech.  The latter, Madam, is of more consequence than, perhaps, you are aware.’

Poor little Mrs. Sturk was looking very pale, and breathing very hard, with her hand pressed to her heart.

’I’ve done what I could, you know, to see my way through his affairs, and I’ve succeeded in keeping his creditors quiet.’

At this point poor Mrs. Sturk broke out—­

’Oh! may the Father of the fatherless, if such they are to be bless and reward—­oh—­oh—­ho—­ho, Mr. Dangerfield—­oh—­oh-oh—­Sir.’

’Now, pray, Madam, oblige me and be tranquil.  I say, Madam, his affairs, I suspect, are by no means in so bad a case as we at first supposed, and he has got, or I’m mistaken, large sums out, but where, neither I nor you can tell.  Give him five minutes’ speech, and it may be worth a thousand pounds to you—­well, not to you, if you will, but to his children.  And again, Madam, ’tis of the utmost importance that he should be able to state who was the villain who struck him—­Charles—­a—­Charles—­Mr. Nutter—­you know, Madam.’

’Oh! that dreadful—­dreadful man—­may Heaven forgive him.  Oh, my Barney! look at him there—­he’d forgive him if he could speak.  You would, my blessed Barney—­you would.’

’To be sure he would.  But see, Ma’am, the importance of having his evidence to settle the fact.  Well, I know that he would not like to hang anybody.  But suppose, Ma’am, Charles Nutter is innocent, don’t you think he’d like to acquit him? ay, you do.  Well, Ma’am, ’tis due to the public, you see, and to his children that he should have a chance of recovering his speech, and to common humanity that he should have a chance for his life—­eh? and neither will the doctors who have him in hands allow him.  Now, Madam, there’s a simple operation, called trepanning, you have heard of it, which would afford him such a chance, but fearing its failure they won’t try it, although they allege that without it he must die, d’ye see?—­ay, die he must, without a cast for his life if you won’t try it.’