"You will write to-night? Oh, Margaret! the post goes out at five--you will write by it, won't you? I have so few hours left--I feel dear, as if I should not recover, though sometimes your father over-persuades me into hoping; you will write directly, won't you? Don't lose a single post; for just by that very post I may miss him."
"But, mamma, papa is out."
"Papa is out! and what then? Do you mean that he would deny me this last wish, Margaret? Why, I should not be ill, be dying--if he had not taken me away from Helstone, to this unhealthy, smoky, sunless place."

'You will write tonight? Oh, Margaret! the post goes at five - I have so few hours left. Don't lose a single post.'
'But, mamma, papa is gone out.'
'What of it? Do you mean that he would deny me this last wish, Margaret? Why, I should not be ill if he had not taken me away from Helstone, to this unhealthy, smoky place.'
