"No, no!" said Margaret, fighting against the weakness which threatened to master her. "It—it is only a little faintness. Is the fire all right? Yes? Then will you go down and warm some of the wine Tonelli will bring, and bring it up to me?"
The woman left the room, and Margaret once more bent over the unconscious Lottie.
Yes, it was the same woman! But how came she to be lying in the streets of Naples, in rags, and evidently half-famished? Had Blair deserted her again?
All the while she was pondering she was using means to bring warmth and life back, and presently the woman of the house came up with the hot wine.
Margaret succeeded in getting some through the white lips, and after awhile Lottie opened her eyes. They rested upon the lovely face for some seconds vacantly, but presently a gleam of intelligence shot across them, and she tried to raise herself upon her elbow, staring wildly at what she took to be a vision.
"Do not move," said Margaret, softly. "You are weak and ill. Drink some of this wine."
Lottie took the cup and drained it feverishly.
"Give me some more," she gasped. "Give me anything to wake me from this dream. Do you hear? Wake me, or I shall go mad! I tell you I can see her standing there in front of me!" and she pointed to Margaret wildly. "I've often fancied I've seen her, but never so plainly as now. Wake me! for Heaven's sake, wake me!"
"Try and keep quiet," said Margaret, soothingly; but at the sound of her voice Lottie only grew more excited.