The females withdrew out of ear-shot to give place to
a more legitimate comforter than themselves.
"What know you respecting my purpose?" inquired Fanshawe, bending towards
her.
The woman gave a groan--the usual result of all efforts at consolation--
for the edification of the company, and then replied in a whisper, which
reached only the ear for which it was intended. "I know whom you come to
seek: I can direct you to them. Speak low, for God's sake!" she continued,
observing that Fanshawe was about to utter an exclamation. She then
resumed her groans with greater zeal than before.
"Where--where are they?" asked the student, in a whisper which all his
efforts could scarcely keep below his breath. "I adjure you to tell me."
"And, if I should, how am I like to be bettered by it?" inquired the old
woman, her speech still preceded and followed by a groan.
"O God! The _auri sacra fames!_" thought Fanshawe with, a sickening
heart, looking at the motionless corpse upon the bed, and then at the
wretched being, whom the course of nature, in comparatively a moment of
time, would reduce to the same condition.
He whispered again, however, putting his purse into the hag's hand. "Take
this. Make your own terms when they are discovered.
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