and admiration on that skin, whiter than the Parian marble, those chiselled features, beautiful in death. No! Helen was in Lord Meersbrook's arms, when Mrs. Palmer cried out, as she led the way—
"Bring her into this fresh, cold room; lay her on the sofa, but keep her head raised as high as you can. I wonder where my sal-volatile is. I must go to the medicine-chest—I must get something."
All activity, as all kindness, the good lady bustled about, and had soon the satisfaction of seeing Helen's eyes open, and she was not sorry to observe that they swam in tears, for she thought they might relieve her; but only a few drops rolled down her cheeks; nature found another refuge in the sleep she had been deprived of, and, as the most kind and encouraging words fell upon her ear and solaced her heart, she sank unresistingly into a state which appeared to be equally slumber and faintness.
The first moment she had observed symptoms of returning life, Mrs. Palmer had rushed to the library, and said, "She is better, she will soon be well; for God's sake stop the people over the way, for they are actually bringing the sideboard into the street!"
"I must have my coat and my shoes," said Mr.
