"No, Mr. James Harrington."
"I will go," answered Lina, eagerly.
But the name of James Harrington, even upon those lips, had reached the sleeping sense of Mabel. She made a faint struggle. Her lips quivered with an ineffectual attempt to speak. This brought Lina back.
"Shall I call help, dear mamma? Shall I call help?"
"No!"
The monosyllable was uttered so faintly, that nothing but a loving ear, like Lina's, would have heard it. The warm-hearted girl stooped and kissed Mabel softly upon the forehead, thanking God silently in her heart.
Mabel shrunk from that pure kiss, turned her head abruptly on the cushion, and tears stole through her eyelashes, leaving them dark and moist.
"Madam, is there anything I can do?"
As she spoke Agnes bent over the helpless woman, and shed her glances over that pale face, as the upas tree weeps poison.
The unaccountable dislike that Mabel felt for this girl, gave her strength, and she sat up, stung by the reflection that her weakness had so objectionable a witness.