"You have been unwell, dear madam. I am afraid you have had a fainting
fit; but, thank Heaven, you are better now."
Harry was truly grateful; first, that her original suspicion had proved
to be unfounded; secondly, that Mrs. Basil was alive. She had contrived
to place her in a sitting posture, with her back against the heavy
arm-chair; and now she brought a carafe of water from the side-board,
and sprinkled her face and hands.
"Let me call Mary, and we will get you up to your own room as soon as
you feel equal to the effort."
Mrs. Basil's eyes had closed again. Her face was white and stiff as that
of a corpse; but she shook her head with vehemence. "The door--lock the
door!" she murmured.
Not without some hesitation, for she began to fear that her companion
was wandering in her mind, Harry obeyed her. "Get me into my chair. Oh,
why did I ever wake to weary life again!"
"What has troubled you? Can any new misfortune have happened to us?"
inquired Harry, woefully.
"To _you_--no," answered the old woman, with sudden fierceness; "to
me--yes. Do you see that letter?" She pointed to one lying beneath the
table. "Twenty years ago that would have been my death-warrant; but now
I am so used to suffer that, like the man who lived on poisons, nothing
kills.
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