“Well!”
But some feeling stronger than fear, gripped her heart and stopped her speech.
“Zuleime! How long will you try my patience?”
“Madam—”
Another hesitation.
“What, then?”
“I have been—a wife! I am—a widow! I am fated to be—”
“Well,” asked Georgia, in a deep-drawn breath between her teeth, “you are fated to be—”
“A mother!” breathed the girl, in a dying voice, covering her face with both hands, and sinking lower on the ground.
There was a long, deep pause, filled up with the roar of the torrent and the moan of the rising wind. Suddenly up sprang Zuleime, with fire in her eyes, and made a dash towards the water. The swift arm of Georgia caught and dragged her back. No word was spoken yet. The impulse of frenzy passed off, and Zuleime sunk into her old posture.