"—to hell. Hell—to hell—to hell!" she heard him mutter. "Anybody could bluff you; but not me! Why didn't you send him to me!" Then, in an almost inaudible whisper, "Quinlan—where did she hear that?—Jaccard."
Sarah Cullen switched out the light and slipped into that now bedless room adjoining to find a box of capsules which she frequently took, these days. Lucas knew about them; the doctor called them only aids to circulation; and as Sarah always put the refilled prescription in the old pill box, he had no idea how often the capsules had become necessary. He required nothing whatever of this sort; and Sarah had no fear that he was soon to die; yet it was of him that she was thinking when she turned to that page in the Episcopal prayer book which says:
"Since therefore you are soon to pass into an endless and unchangeable state," she half read, half repeated the familiar passage to herself, "into an endless and unchangeable state, and your future happiness or misery depends upon the few moments which are left you, I require you strictly to examine yourself and your estate both towards God and towards Man; and let no worldly consideration hinder you from making a true and full confession of your sins, and giving all the satisfaction which is in your power to every one whom you have wronged, or injured; that you may find mercy at your heavenly Father's hand, for Christ's sake, and not be condemned in the dreadful day of judgment."
Sarah knew herself to be the one likely not to awaken some morning before so very long; and for herself to die was not a terrible thought; but to leave her boy unrepentant to "appear before the Judge of all flesh
