Poor wretches who had insulted him had sent for him, with abject shrieks.

"Oh, doctor, doctor, save me! Oh, forgive me! oh, if I'd minded what you said! Oh, don't think of what I said!" And Tom had answered cheerfully, "Tut-tut; never mind what might have been; let's feel your pulse." But though Tom did not reproach Heale, Heale reproached himself.

He had just conscience enough left to feel the whole weight of his abused responsibility, exaggerated and defiled by superstitious horror; and maudlin tipsy, he wandered about the street, moaning that he had murdered his wife, and all the town, and asking pardon of every one he met; till seeing one of the meeting-houses open, he staggered in, in the vain hope of comfort which he knew he did not deserve.
In half-an-hour Tom was down the street again to Headley's.

"Where is Miss Harvey ?" "At the Beers'." "She must go up to Heale's instantly.

The mother will die.