ness; but one glance at the wan and inanimate form before her recalled her in a measure to herself. She raised Lucy's head on a stool near; and recollecting that in one of the cabinets there were still some drops which were wont to revive Guido, she hastened to procure them, and succeeded in pouring some down Lucy's throat, who awoke first to life, and then to life's fearful consciousness. All concealment, all restraint was over; she flung herself at Francesca's feet, and franticly implored her to save him. It was the despair of a child, who believes there is no bounds to any power but its own.
The exertion necessary to soothe and subdue Lucy's passionate sorrow was the best composer to Francesca's own agitation. One idea took possession of her imagination. "Was it not possible to contrive his escape?" To effect this, the utmost presence of mind was needful; they required calmness and deliberation. But the first hint of such a plan so overwhelmed Lucy with a paroxysm of joy, as uncontrollable as her previous alarm, that at first it seemed almost hopeless to expect assistance, or even obedience, from her. Gradually, she became more collected, and at last they were able to consult together as to the best measures for communicating with the prisoner, and evading
