It startled her and caused her heart to beat
violently.
"What a fool I am to get in such a state for nothing," but just as
the last word was uttered, a servant opened the door leading from
the inner hall. It was Marguerite's waiting maid.
The girl's face spoke sad news.
"In heaven's name what is the matter, Maria?" cried Mrs. Verne,
thinking that a murder had taken place in their midst.
"It is Miss Verne, ma'am; but she is some better now. Oh! I thought,
ma'am, that you would never come--and she was asking for you."
The poor girl was deeply attached to her young mistress and was
nearly bereft of her senses when she found the latter lying upon the
sofa in an apparently lifeless condition.
A physician had been summoned, who pronounced the girl in no
imminent danger, but said that there was some anxiety to be feared
as regards nervous prostration.
Marguerite had been quickly restored to consciousness, but she was
white as the coverlid that overspread the luxurious bed upon which
she lay so calm and still.
"My child, what has done this," exclaimed Mrs. Verne looking wildly
around her as if for answer from some other than those that stood
about.
Pages:
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395