"Oh, I am so thankful you have come! I have wanted you very much these last two days."
"How is mother?" asked Salome.
"Very ill. She has not slept at all. Dr. Gardner fears for her brain. Her mind is wandering now. She keeps talking and talking and calling for Juliet."
Hannah paused, and cast a hard, reproachful glance at Juliet.
"I hope you are satisfied, Juliet, with what you have done," she said.
"Oh, don't, Hannah," interposed Salome swiftly; "don't be hard on Juliet! She has suffered enough."
Hannah looked on her young sister's altered face, and felt that her words were cruel. The wavy golden hair escaping from the little travelling-cap framed a face which was utterly colourless save for the blueness of the lips, and which had a wan, pinched look strangely in contrast to its childish contour. Grief will often bring a look of age even to a young face, and the anguish and remorse which had been working in Juliet's mind through the long hours of the night had left their impress. It was not a girl, but a grief-stricken woman, who looked at Hannah with a mute appeal for mercy in her melancholy eyes.
"What does Dr. Gardner say? Tell me," she demanded breathlessly. "He does not think she will die?"
"He is very much afraid," Hannah answered, choosing her words carefully. "He said if you did not come soon, it would be too late; but he thought your coming might save her."
A sob broke from Juliet. She turned in haste to the staircase. She would have gone at once, as she was, into her mother's presence; but Hannah checked her, and went first to acquaint the nurse with her coming.