Kemble. "Well, I might as well out with it. Suppose Captain Nichol
was not killed after all?"
Helen sank into a chair as if struck down as Nichol had been
himself. "What!" she whispered; and her face was white indeed.
Mrs. Kemble rushed to her husband, demanding, "Do you mean to tell
us that Captain Nichol is alive?"
"Yes; that's just the question we've got to face."
"It brings up another question," replied his wife, sternly. "If
he's been alive all this time, why did he not let us know? As far
as I can make out, Hobart has found him in Washington--"
"Helen," cried her father to the trembling girl, "for Heaven's
sake, be calm!"
"He's alive, ALIVE!" she answered, as if no other thought could
exist in her mind. Her eyes were kindling, the color coming into
her face, and her bosom throbbed quickly as if her heart would
burst its bonds. Suddenly she rushed to her father, exclaiming,
"He was the sick man. Oh, why did you not let me see him?"
"Well, well!" ejaculated Mr. Kemble, "Hobart was right, poor
fellow! Yes, Helen, Captain Nichol is the sick man, not
dangerously ill, however.
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