was a silence. "Send for her, she may be crying upstairs." Said Lord Moore "“Ay, ay, boy;" then Garcia relapsed again into a deep reverie. "I wonder if I have done right" he said half to himself; "I pray God I have!" He opened the door, and called Martha; "tell Miss Bia1nca to come here." "Yes,sir."
Martha went upstairs and knocked; there was no answer she knocked again and then again; still there was silence; at length she pushed open the door and entered. Bianca was sitting by the open window. "Why Miss Bianca,"—the girl started then shivered,—" why Miss, how pale ye are; be ye ill, decry?" "O Martha! I feel so cold!" "Feel cold! Why it’s the hottest day we’ve ever had this year." Bianca rose; but she bad not gone two steps, when she tottered; Martha caught her up; and led her to the sofa. "How cold your hands are! Whatever is the mather with ye?" Said the kindly Scotch woman; "Oh that I were dead!" Said the girl, as she sank back on the sofa. "How cold I am; am I dying Martha?" "Dying! Whatever are yo talking about? Ye're feverish and delirious." Said Martha. "Keep still; I shall soon be back." And quite beside herself with fright for her "deary," she hurried downstairs and into the study. "Please,sir, I believe, Miss Bianca is ill!" Said she all at once. "Ill!" Exclaimed Garcia, "why she went out not half an hour ago from this room, and she was well then." "But she isn't now, sir; she seems to be very ill. Lord Moore glanced at Garcia there was reproach in his deep hazel eyes; Garcia's face grew very pale and anxious. "What is she doing now, Martha?" "Lying on the sofa, sir, I helped her to it, she was near falling, but I held her up." "Viens, toi," said he turning to Lord Moore; "pauvratte! j'étaus fou; j'étais trop dur," And he mounted upstairs three steps at a time, followed by Lord Moore.
