There was little delay. A few words of earnest sympathy from Mrs.
Jernam, an assurance that the child should be well cared for, and Mrs.
Miller left the house, ran down the road to the dog-cart, climbed into
it, and was driven away.
Rosamond came in from her own little dwelling to her aunt's, at an
early hour that day, and when the first surprise and pleasure of
finding the child there had passed away, the two women fell to
speculating on what kind of revelation it might be which awaited Mrs.
Miller.
"Depend upon it, aunt," said Susan, "we shall hear the truth about
little Gerty now."
* * * * *
The hours wore solemnly away in the great building, consecrated to
suffering and its relief, in which Black Milsom lay dying, with his
sister kneeling by his bed, while the good clergyman, who had had pity
on the soul of the sinner, sat on the other side, gravely and
compassionately looking at them both. The meeting between the brother
and sister had been very distressing, and the agony exhibited by the
poor woman when she was made aware that her brother had acknowledged
himself a criminal of the deepest dye, was intense. Calm--almost
stupor--had succeeded to her wild grief, and the clergyman had spoken
words of consolation and hope to the dying and the living. The surgeons
had seen the man for the last time; there was nothing more to be done
for him now--nothing to do but to wait for the equal foot approaching
with remorseless tread.
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