withdrew to another chamber, communicating by a side door, masked by
drapery, with that of Lady Roos.

Devoted to her mistress, Sarah Swarton would have sacrificed her life to
restore her to health; and she cared not though the fever might be
infectious. The gentleness and resignation of the ill-fated lady, which
failed to move Luke Hatton, melted her to tears; and it was with
infinite grief that she saw her, day by day, sinking slowly but surely
into the grave. To Lady Roos, the presence of Sarah Swarton was an
inexpressible comfort. The handmaiden was far superior to her station,
with a pleasing countenance, and prepossessing manner, and possessed of
the soft voice so soothing to the ear of pain. But the chief comfort
derived by Lady Roos from the society of Sarah Swarton, was the power of
unbosoming herself to her respecting her husband, and of pouring her
sorrows into a sympathising ear. Lord Roos had never been near his wife
since her seizure--nor, that she could learn, had made any inquiries
about her; but notwithstanding his heartless conduct, her great desire
was to behold him once more before she died, and to breathe some last
words into his ear; and she urged the wish so strongly upon her
confidante, that the latter promised, if possible, to procure its
accomplishment.

A week had now nearly elapsed--the fatal term appointed by Luke
Hatton--and it could be no longer doubted that, if the last
gratification sought by Lady Roos were to be afforded her, it must not
be delayed.

The poor sufferer was wasted to a skeleton; her cheeks hollow; eyes sunk
in deep cavities, though the orbs were unnaturally bright; and her frame
so debilitated, that she could scarcely raise herself from the pillow.