"No," she said, "I'm afraid it's true. Oh, poor thing, poor thing; it is too dreadful!" And with a cry of horror she fainted again.
"What is it, Ollie?" asked Mr. Cloudesley, while he bathed the girl's face and rubbed her hands—such poor little, thin, cold hands!
"I don't know, sir," Ollie said, dismally. "Ruth said she must go down again, even if Mrs. Cricklade beat her, for we had nothing in the room, not even water. And so she went, but in a moment she came running back, and fell down on the bed, and never said a word until you came."
"Was it long before we came?" said Ralph.
"Hours and hours!" said poor Ollie. It had not really been very long, but it had truly seemed so to the terrified and helpless child. "I couldn't move, because Ruth fell upon me; and oh, but I am hungry and thirsty, and frightened too. Ruth was so dead, you know."
Ruth was again recovering consciousness.
"Sit down on the bed, Trulock, and hold her in your arms—do. Let her see only you and Ollie. Peters wants me to go with him, and he will find out what frightened her. Here, Ollie, drink this water, and I will bring you something better as soon as I can."
Peters, who had been standing at the door, beckoning incessantly for Mr. Cloudesley to follow him, now led the way to the next floor. There, on the narrow landing-stage, he stopped short.
"I don't wonder the child was scared well-nigh to death, sir," said he. "I don't know yet whether it's 'visitation of Providence,' or 'feller-deasy,' but whatever it is the old woman is lying dead in her bed!"
"Dead!" exclaimed Mr. Cloudesley. "The poor old creature! But are you sure she is dead? Let us go and see, for we ought to send for the doctor if not."