“When she sc-sc-screams, she's all right,” added Purvis; and, certainly, the most anxious friend might have been comforted on the present occasion.
“Shall I not send for a physician?” asked Kate, eagerly.
“On no account, Miss Dalton. We are quite accustomed to these seizures. My dear sister's nerves are so susceptible.”
“Yes,” said Scroope, who, be it remarked, had already half finished a bottle of hock, “poor Zoe is all sensibility the scabbard too sharp for the sword. Won't you have a glass of wine, Miss Dalton?”
“Thanks, sir, I take none. I trust she is better now she looks easier.”
“She is better; but this is a difficult moment,” whispered Martha. “Any shock any sudden impression now might prove fatal.”
“What is to be done, then?” said Kate, in terror.
“She must be put to bed at once, the room darkened, and the strictest silence preserved. Can you spare your room?”
“Oh, of course, anything everything at such a moment,” cried the terrified girl, whose reason was now completely mastered by her fears.