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Show Page 8 "Calm yourself, Sarah," she ordered. "'Tis not meet to be worrying about yourself. If she is yet able to hear you, think of what you are doing to your aunt. Do not let her die full of worry and pain, Sarah. Let her go with a peaceful heart, believing you will be fine." Anne was right. Shame washed over me, shame that I had bethought only of myself. I closed my eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. I nodded, then bundled up my fears and shoved them back down into that dark place in the pit of my stomach. As I did so, part of me seemed to step away and become detached, as though someone else knelt in my place, someone else calmly turned back to Aunt Mary and gently touched her cheek. And I prayed that Aunt Mary hadn't heard me before, but would hear me now. "Never you fear, dear aunt," I whispered, my voice sounding inside my head as though it came from a great distance. "I shall be fine. It's an adventure I'm going on. Just like in one of father's books. You know I always dreamed of going adventuring. Rest now. Sleep. Do not worry about your Sarah. I--shall be--fine." Aunt Mary tried to smile, but I fear it was more a grimace. Her head fell back and she was again in a stupor, her breath thick and choking. A short time later she began to rave. "I want to go out," she moaned, tossing on her pallet. "I want to go out. The |