Wives and Widows; or, The Broken Life

by Ann S. Stephens

"Talking about you. Oh, my! hain't you woke up a hornet's nest! Cora's mad too; golly, don't she go on. I told you to let things alone."

"I care very little for Mrs. Dennison's anger," I said.

"I don't suppose you do. But she'll pay you off if she can. So look sharp, Miss Hyde; these are times for sleeping with both eyes open. No chance to dream or make verses now."

"Nonsense, child!"

"Nonsense, if you choose; but that don't alter the matter. Babylon's brought Mr. Lee back to the house; she had him out in the garden to make all right about Lawrence."

"Stop, Lottie!"

"I have stopped—sha'n't say no more! Hark! what was that?"

It was a call—an appeal for help. A voice from Mrs. Lee's room cried with energy,—

"Martha Hyde! Martha Hyde!"

I rushed into the chamber, followed by Lottie, and found Mrs. Lee half risen on her sofa, tossing her arms about, and calling still upon my name, although she was yet asleep.