Elsie sprang off the couch and ran towards her with a succession of strangled shrieks.
"What is the matter? What ails you? You frighten me so. Are you sick—did you see something? Is he going that way?"
But the woman neither saw nor heard; her eyes were fixed upon vacancy, an appalling look lay on her haggard face, which might well have startled stronger nerves than those of the girl by her side.
"Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" shrieked Elsie, in genuine terror which there was no mistaking.
"I must do it," muttered the woman; "I must do it!"
"Oh, Bessie, dear Bessie! Get up! Don't look so! Oh, for heaven's sake! Bessie, Bessie!"
Elsie threw herself upon the floor beside her sister, crying and shrieking, clinging to her, and hiding her face in her dress. Her agitation and wild terror recalled Elizabeth to her senses. She disengaged herself from Elsie's arms and staggered to her feet.
"It's over now," she said, feebly, with the weariness of a person exhausted by some violent exertion; "I am better—better now."
"Oh, you frightened me so."
"I will not frighten you again. Don't cry; I am strong now."