Could I let him shoulder the responsibility of concealment? And if I
refused? Publicity--an inquest? At last I was alive to the situation; in
silent gratitude I wrung Upton's hand, but he took no notice of me. As he
passed Reid he growled:--
"Your wife's a good woman to tie to, Pros. She's all right. Lucky she was
telegraphed for."
Cadge had begun to talk in low tones to Mr. Winship. He did not seem to
listen, but the quiet voice soothed him. Gradually his gray, set features
relaxed, though he would not submit to be led from the bedside.
"Ma was right," he said at last, broken and querulous. "We'd never ought
to have let her come to the city. Ye say she'll be famous? Sissy, my poor
little Poppet, w'at good to ye is fame; w'at good is all your studyin'?"
* * * * *
I did not open Helen's writing case for weeks; not until after my return
from the dreary journey West with Mr. Winship.
Stunned by the shock of her death, bearing not only my grief but the
knowledge that her father and mother must hold me in part responsible for
her fatal coming to New York, I could not face the secret of her choice of
death rather than marriage with me.
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