“Mary! Help, help! He’s here—Dick—alive! He’s fainted!”
The table stood between her and the dark form in the shadow on the floor. She advanced slowly.
“Dick—not dead!” she screamed.
Her cry rang through the house and awakened everybody. Netty heard the words upstairs, and sat 235 up in bed, trembling. The servants heard them, and began to dress hurriedly.
Dick was lifted by his father from the floor to the couch, and the conscience-stricken mother looked on with drawn, white face. Love conquered her fear, and she put her arms about him and kissed him; but, when he opened his eyes, she drew away out of sight, fearing reproach. His first words might be bitter denunciation.
“He knows all; he understands,” whispered the rector.
The study door stood open, and in another moment they became conscious of the half-clad figure of Jane, the housekeeper, looking in.
“Mr. Dick!” she screamed. “Mr. Dick! Not dead!” She turned and rushed upstairs to Netty’s room.
She found Netty in a panic, pale and trembling.
“What has happened?”