Judith readily undertook the office, and the earl delayed his departure
for two days, to see how all went on; and finding the arrangements, to
all appearances, answer perfectly, he departed with Etherege and
Pillichody.
Ever since the communication of the fatal truth had been made to her by
the earl, his unfortunate victim had occupied the large oak-panelled
chamber, on entering which so sad a presentiment had seized her; and she
had never quitted the bed where she thought she would breathe her last.
On the night of Rochester's departure she made many inquiries concerning
him from Judith Malmayns, who was seated in an old broad-cushioned,
velvet-covered chair, beside her, and was told that the king required
his attendance at Oxford, but that he would soon return. At this answer
the tears gathered thickly in Amabel's dark eyelashes, and she remained
silent. By-and-by she resumed the conversation.
"Do you know, nurse," she said, with a look of extreme anxiety, "I have
forgotten my prayers. Repeat them to me, and I will say them after you."
"My memory is as bad as your ladyship's," replied Judith,
contemptuously. "It is so long since I said mine, that I have quite
forgotten them."
"That is wrong in you," returned Amabel, "very wrong. When I lived with
my dear father, we had prayers morning and evening, and I was never so
happy as then.
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