"Send Lady Tayne's maid here and the nurse. Send for Mrs. Dalkeith and for the doctor!"
"It has killed her, sir," said Patience, with a white face.
"I am afraid so," he replied.
They raised her and carried her to her room; they laid her down, and the rector drew me to her.
"If any voice can call her back, my dear," he said, "it will be yours; if she can hear anything it will be that. Put your arm around her neck and speak to her."
I did. But, oh, Heaven! the white face fell helplessly on mine. Oh, my beautiful young mother—as I held her there a vision came to me of her, as I had seen her, with shining eyes and flying feet.
"She is with the angels of heaven," said the rector, gently. "My poor child, come away."
"Do you mean that she is dead?" I asked—"dead?"
"Yes, she is with the angels," he replied. "Thank Heaven for it! Dear child, she could not have lived and borne this—she would have suffered a torture of anguish. Now it is all over, and she is at rest. She must have died even as she fell."
Was I dying? My face fell on hers; an exceeding bitter cry came from my lips.