"My dearest child, I know it. But it will hurt you to talk so much."
"Yes, yes; I always did talk thoughtlessly, and it has driven him mad. Oh! I loved him once, and I have driven him mad, now," she cried, wringing her pale fingers.
Mrs. Brantwell looked at the puzzled doctor in deepest distress.
"Give her this; it will compose her," said that gentleman, who could not tell what to make of all this.
"Drink this, love; it will soothe you," said that good lady, raising the poor, wounded head of the young wife, and holding the cup to her lips.
With the passive obedience of a child, she complied, and fell back on her pillow. And, gradually, the wild, frenzied expression left her face, and she fell into a deep slumber.
"And now, she must be kept very quiet," said the doctor, as he took his hat and gloves. "There is not the slightest danger, if she is not allowed to excite herself, and is carefully nursed, which I know she will be, with Mrs. Brantwell. Repeat the medicine, when she wakes, and I will call again, to-morrow."
And the doctor bowed himself out, while Mrs. Brantwell sat down beside the poor, pale sleeper, fanning her gently, and watching her while she slept.
Sibyl, seeing her presence was not necessary, went down to the parlor, where she found Willard Drummond awaiting her. She started in alarm, for his countenance was grave and deeply troubled.
"Why, Willard, what has happened?". she asked, hurriedly, quick to take the alarm, where he was concerned.