There were sounds inside the room of some one moving about, then the door was opened, and Mrs. Fowler, clad in a dressing-gown, with her hair streaming over her shoulders, appeared in the doorway.
"What do you all want—coming here—disturbing me?" she questioned irritably; then she lurched forward, and would have fallen on her face, if Miss Conway had not sprung to her assistance and caught her.
"Oh, she has fainted!" Margaret cried, terribly frightened and distressed.
With the help of Ross, who was looking pale and scared, the governess succeeded in dragging Mrs. Fowler across the room, and laying her upon the bed; and then turned to her little pupil and told her to shut and lock the door. Wondering greatly, Margaret obeyed. Returning to the bedside, she looked from one to the other of her companions in mingled astonishment and reproach, for neither was making the least attempt to bring Mrs. Fowler back to consciousness. The tears were streaming down Miss Conway's cheeks, and Ross was murmuring—"I never guessed it. No, I never guessed it."
"Oh, can't you do anything?" Margaret cried distractedly. "Oh, she is very ill!" And she bent over her mother, then suddenly drew back. Mrs. Fowler's cheeks were unusually flushed; she was breathing heavily, and upon her lips hung the smell of spirit. Margaret experienced a sensation as though an icy hand had gripped her heart. She looked inquiringly at Miss Conway, who avoided her glance, then her eyes travelled slowly around the room. On the dressing-table was a nearly empty brandy bottle, and by its side a glass.
With an exceedingly bitter cry, Margaret realised the truth. Her mother was not ill—that is, not in the way she had supposed—but intoxicated. The blow had fallen, and everything was now plain to her.
As in a dream, she heard Ross whispering to Miss Conway that she had never suspected her mistress of this, that she had never had such a shock in her life before, and listened to Miss Conway's answer that she herself would remain with Mrs. Fowler, and that the servants must be told she was ill. Then, the governess put her arms around her pupil and kissed her, begging her to be a brave girl. And all the while, Margaret was experiencing a strange feeling of unreality, as though she was living through a horrible nightmare. She watched Miss Conway fling the windows open wide, and place a blanket carefully over her mother's unconscious form, and the conviction grew upon her, that though the governess was deeply grieved, she was not surprised and shocked as she herself was and poor Ross who looked almost scared to death.
Suddenly the governess pointed to the brandy bottle and appealed to the maid.
"Did you supply her with that?" she questioned sternly.
"No, miss, on my word of honour, I did not," Ross replied earnestly. "I never knew she had it; she must have kept it under lock and key."