"Speak, Eve; for
heaven's sake tell me the worst. Is papa dead?"
"Oh worse than that, Madge--worse than that. Death is nothing in
comparison!"
"Eve, I cannot stand this horrible suspense; for mercy sake, I
implore you tell me the truth," cried the girl, her bosom heaving
wildly and her limbs trembling so that she had to grasp the mantel
beside her for support.
Mrs. Arnold then pulled the bell-rope and a servant, or rather page,
answered the summons.
"Bring me that package of letters lying on the small cabinet in my
boudoir," said she, with as much nonchalance as if nothing of any
importance occupied her thoughts.
The boy returned and presented the desired package on a small and
unique silver salver, lined with gold and enamel.
"Here it is, Madge," said Mrs. Arnold, passing a somewhat lengthy
telegram into the girl's hand.
The latter run her eye hastily over the contents and turned deathly
pale. "Poor, dear, papa!" were all the words she could say, when an
icy chill ran through the delicate frame, and the tender-hearted
daughter fell into a deadly swoon.
Mrs. Arnold did feel something akin to pity when she saw the
graceful form prostrate at her feet, and as she stooped down and
took the cold hand in hers, murmured "poor little Madge--you were
not fashioned for this decidedly calculating world.
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