"
"Both, perhaps, involuntary; but I certainly did not wish to grow
unconscious again."
"Yet you wanted to die a while ago--child, child, there is something
wrong here! What is it? Tell me frankly. I heard of the scene with Mr.
Stanbury--the passionate old man was very unwise to excite you so; he
meant well, though, no doubt--he always does. What more has occurred?
Now, tell me candidly--much depends on the truth--has any one been
unkind?"
"Whatever I say to you, Dr. Pemberton, must be under the pledge of
confidence," I replied; "otherwise I shall keep my own counsel."
"Surely, Miriam."
"Well, then, I overheard some one saying, when I revived this morning,
that I was epileptic, and it troubled me. Now, I call upon you solemnly
to answer me truthfully on this point. Of what character is my
disease?--speak earnestly."
"I do not know--not epilepsy, certainly; partially nervous, I think--one
of Nature's strange safety-valves, I suppose."
"You would not deceive me?"
"Not under present circumstances, surely; not at any time after such an
appeal as yours."
"Did Dr. Physick ever pronounce my disease epilepsy? You consulted
together about it once, I believe. Do tell me the truth about this
matter," laying my hand on his arm.
"Never, so help me God!" he said, earnestly.
"You have relieved me greatly," I said, pressing my lips on that dear
and revered hand which had so often ministered to me and mine in sorest
agony--a hand spotless as the heart within--yet, brown and withered as
the leaves of autumn.
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