Agnes would have laughed at the silly man, but at this moment such
violent and agonized groaning fell upon her ears, that she started and
trembled. But it was only for a moment.
In an instant more she had thrown off her travelling costume and hat
and bounded up stairs.
There such a sight met her gaze as would have chilled, the stoutest
heart. In a narrow rear chamber were four living people and two
corpses. The two dead ones were the father, a man of about forty, and
a little girl of six years, his youngest child. The four living people
were the mother, thirty years old, a little girl, and two boys, of the
respective ages of nine, fourteen, and sixteen.
"Don't take us away to the cemetery yet! for God's sake, don't!"
groaned the woman in agony. "We're not dead yet. It won't be long. But
it won't be long. Leave us be a while, and then you can bury us all in
one grave. For God's sake! please!"
"My dear woman, I've come to try and save your lives, not to bury
you," replied Agnes in a low, kindly voice, patting the sick woman's
forehead.
"They take plenty of them away and stick them in the ground while they
are alive yet. Heaven help us, for we can't help ourselves."
These words were not spoken consecutively, but in fits and starts
between paroxysms of dreadful physical suffering. Her racked mind and
body prevented the mother from quickly comprehending Agnes.
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