“Actress! Oh, she is no actress!” cried Mrs. Ormond.
Clarence Hervey raised her from the ground, and Belinda sprinkled water over her face.
“She’s dead!—she’s dead! Oh, my sweet child! she’s dead!” exclaimed Mrs. Ormond, trembling so violently, that she could not sustain Virginia.
“She is no actress, indeed,” said Clarence Hervey: “her pulse is gone!”
Lady Delacour looked at Virginia’s pale lips, touched her cold hands, and with a look of horror cried out, “Good Heavens! what have I done? What shall we do with her?”
“Give her air—give her air, air, air!” cried Belinda.
“You keep the air from her, Mrs. Ormond,” said Mrs. Delacour. “Let us leave her to Miss Portman; she has more presence of mind than any of us.” And as she spoke she forced Mrs. Ormond away with her out of the room.
“If Mr. Hartley should come, keep him with you, Mrs. Delacour,” said Clarence Hervey. “Is her pulse quite gone?”
“No; it beats stronger and stronger,” said Belinda.
“Her colour is returning,” said Lady Delacour. “There! raise her a little, dear Belinda; she is coming to herself.”