She had no wish to force herself upon you; she only felt that she was dying, and that if she could look on your face once before she went out of life, and see you well, and beautiful, and beloved, and happy, she could lie down in the dust at your gates and die content.
"She made me write you a line or two that night," continued Mr.
Parmalee--"that night which she thought her last--and she begged me to find you and give it to you, with her picture.

I have it yet; here they are, both." He drew from his pocket the picture and a note, and gave them into my lady's hand.
"She didn't die," he resumed; "she got better, and I took her to London, left her there, and came down here.

Now, my lady, I don't make no pretense of being better than I am; I took this matter up in the way of speculation, in the view to make money out of it, and nothing else.
I said to myself: 'Here's this young lady, the bride of a rich baronet; it ain't likely she's been and told him all this, and it ain't likely her pa has died and left her ignorant of it.

Now, what's to hinder my making a few honest pounds out of it, at the same time I do a good turn for this poor, sufferin'.

sinful critter here?
That's what I said, my lady, and that's what I am here for.