When Hettie awoke to consciousness, Henry was bending over her, while her mother sat by her side, smoothing her beautiful forehead, and putting back the dark locks which kept falling over it.
All was still; she listened for those terrible sounds which had well nigh driven her reason; but no sound could she hear, except the sweet voice of Henry.
'You feel better now?'
'Oh, yes; but how has it all come about?'
'We must ask you that, my dear?' said her mother; 'it is all a mystery, a great mystery to us.'
'Sally went for you then, mother? I was fearful it would all be over before she could get there.'
'Yes, my dear, and she is now sitting with your brother until we get home.'
'Do let us go, then, for I am so anxious to get away from this terrible place—but there—what is that!' and Hettie darted a wild glance towards the door. Henry and her mother looked at each other.
'There is nothing here, Hettie—no one beside your dear mother and myself.'
'Oh—well—I am so glad!'