“No, no, don’t touch me; I shall fall to pieces,” sobbed the maid wildly.
“Nonsense! Here, let me see where you are hurt,” continued the doctor, as Eliza was lifted carefully.
“Oh, Master Vane—oh, Master Vane! Is it the end of the world?” groaned cook, as the lad took one of her hands, and asked her where she was injured.
“No, no,” cried Vane. “Tell me where you are harmed.”
“I don’t know—I don’t know—I don’t know,” moaned the trembling woman, beginning in a very high tone and ending very low. “It’s all over—It’s all over now.”
“Give her water,” said the doctor. “She’s hysterical. Here, cook,” he cried sternly, “how came you to bring powder into the house?”
“I don’t know—I don’t know—I don’t know,” moaned the trembling woman. “Oh, master, give me something. Don’t let me die just yet.”
“Die! nonsense!” cried the doctor. “Be quiet, Eliza. Hang it, women, I can’t do anything if you cry out like this. Wherever are you hurt? You, Eliza, speak.”
His firm way had its effect; and as Bruff and Vane stood looking on, the maid faltered:—
“I was a-doing the breakfast-room, sir, when it went off; and, soon as I heered cook scream, I tried to get to her, but had to go round by the back.”