"Stella!" she whispered, "Stella, darling!"
With returning consciousness came memory, and in a few minutes Stella was sobbing hysterically.
"Let her cry as much as she will," Mr. Gray whispered, as Miss Clarke tried in vain to soothe her.
"Where is it? What was it?" gasped Stella.
"It was only that naughty boy George, who dressed up to frighten you, my dear," Miss Clarke answered, understanding the questions. "He did not mean to hurt you, or do you any harm."
Stella sobbed louder than before. The stories that had been told her years ago, the fears and terrors she had suffered came back to her mind, and it was not till Dr. Knight returned, and lifting her in his arms, carried her into his wife's room, and placed her in bed by the invalid's side, that the poor child could be quieted.
An hour later Stella was asleep with her head pillowed on her aunt's breast, and Dr. Knight, coming in to see the meaning of the lull after the storm, found that his wife, worn out with anxiety, was sleeping too.
The next day, Sunday, was beautifully fine. When Stella awoke she found her aunt already dressed, and was surprised to find it was so late. Anna brought in her breakfast, and told her Miss Clarke had gone to church with the children, excepting George, who was with his mother in the next room.
Though Stella felt weak and dizzy she insisted upon getting up, so Anna fetched her clothes, and assisted her in dressing, exclaiming at her pale face—
"You do look poorly, Miss Stella! Why, what a silly little girl you were to be frightened by Master George!"