"You do not mean it! My dear, you do not mean it! You do not know what
you are saying! Dead! when? how?" asked Mrs. Waugh, in great trouble.
"Shot! shot!" whispered the poor thing, in a tone so hollow, it seemed
reverberating through a vault. And then her stricken head sank heavily
down--and Henrietta perceived that strength and consciousness had
utterly departed. She placed her in the easy chair, and turned around to
look for restoratives, when a door leading into an adjoining bedroom
opened, and a young girl entered, and came quietly and quickly forward
to the side of the sufferer. She greeted Mrs. Waugh politely, and then
gave her undivided attention to Edith, whose care she seemed fully
competent to undertake.
This young girl was not over fourteen years of age, yet the most
beautiful and blooming creature, Mrs. Waugh thought, that she had ever
beheld.
Her presence in the room seemed at once to dispel the gloom and shadow.
She took Edith's hand, and settled her more at ease in the chair--but
refused the cologne and the salammoniac that Mrs. Waugh produced,
saying, cheerfully:
"She has not fainted, you perceive--she breathes--it is better to leave
her to nature for a while--too much attention worries her--she is very
weak.
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