The doctors (and two or three were
summoned) gave up all hope of saving her life from the first. Maggie
also gave up hope. She accused herself of having caused her friend's
death. She believed that the shock of her tidings had killed Annabel,
who, already suffering from fever, had not strength to bear the agony
of knowing that Hammond's love was given to Maggie.
On the night of Annabel's death Maggie wrote to Hammond refusing his
offer of marriage, but giving no reason for doing so. After posting
her letter she lay down on her own sick bed and nearly died of the
fever which had taken Annabel away.
All these things happened a year ago. The agitation caused by the
death of one so young, beautiful and beloved had subsided. People
could talk calmly of Annabel, and although for a long time her room
had remained vacant, it was now occupied by a girl in all respects her
opposite.
Nothing would induce Maggie to enter this room, and no words would
persuade her to speak of Annabel. She was merry and bright once more,
and few gave her credit for secret hours of misery, which were
seriously undermining her health and ruining what was best of her
character.
On this particular day, as she lay back in her carriage, wrapped in
costly furs, a great wave of misery and bitterness was sweeping over
her heart.
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