"For God's sake, let her sleep at any hazard!" whispered Francesca, now fully recalled to all that had passed and was passing. "Another time for explanation. Poor, poor Lucy!" added she, as her mind reverted to the terrible awakening before her.
"I must go," rejoined Aylmer, "And keep some sort of order; for my house is turned inside out." Then, gazing earnestly at Lucy, he said in a low tone, "I will not—dare not, ask what this means now; my dear, my beautiful child!"—but his voice failed, and he hurried from the chamber.
"Anything rather than this torturing suspense!" cried Francesca, who had been standing with her face buried in her hands. "I can look into the yard from Lucy's bed-room—pray God that she may not awake!"
With that dizzy yet desperate feeling which braces even to the last the over-wrought nerves, Francesca cast one more glance on the unconscious sleeper, whose bright hair and flushed cheek were golden and rosy as the morning now breaking around her; but Lucy was too thoroughly exhausted to awaken. There she lay, her head pillowed upon her arm, like a child that had cried itself to rest; while Francesca bent over her, pale, cold as a statue, for lip and cheek were
