"About it—what it?" and Mrs. Willoughby put down her book, and regarded her sister with some curiosity.
"I've a great mind not to tell you, but I can't help it. Besides, I'm dying to ask your advice. I don't know what to do; and I wish I was dead—there!"
"My poor Minnie! what is the matter? You're so incoherent."
"Well, Kitty, it's all my accident."
"Your accident!"
"Yes; on the Alps, you know."
"What! You haven't received any serious injury, have you?" asked Mrs. Willoughby, with some alarm.
"Oh! I don't mean that, but I'll tell you what I mean;" and here Minnie got up from her reclining position, and allowed her little feet to touch the carpet, while she fastened her great, fond, pleading, piteous eyes upon her sister.
"It's the Count, you know," said she.
"The Count!" repeated Mrs. Willoughby, somewhat dryly. "Well?"