Mrs. Elverton bent down and whispered in her ear.
Alma sprang to her feet, gazed with dilated eyes and blanched cheeks in bewildering despair upon her mother’s face, as though unable to receive at once the full horror of her words, and then drew her hands wildly to her head, reeled forward and fell senseless to the floor.
CHAPTER XXI.
THE TRIAL.
Her veil was backward thrown;
Relieving tears refused to flow,
All drank by her great thirsty woe,
She seemed transformed to stone.
Save that at times her white lips quivered,
And her young limbs like aspen shivered,
And burst a low, sad moan!—Nicholas Michell.