But by signs and gestures Mrs. Carroll made her understand that the terrible constriction in her throat made it impossible for her to utter a word.
For a moment Mrs. St. John stood still, like a silent statue of despair, but with a sudden inspiration she brought writing materials, placed them on a small table, and said to her mother:
"Sit down, mamma, and write what you know."
Mrs. Carroll's anguished face brightened at the suggestion. She sat down quickly at the little table, and drawing a sheet of paper toward her, dipped the pen into the ink, and began to write.
Xenie leaned over her shoulder, and watched eagerly for the words that were forming beneath her hand.
But, alas, the nervous shock her mother had sustained made her hand tremble like an aspen leaf.
Great, sprawling, blotted, inky characters soon covered the fair sheet thickly, but among them all there was not one legible word.
Xenie groaned aloud in her terrible impatience and pain.
"Oh, mamma, try again!" she wailed. "Write slowly and carefully. Rest your arm upon the table, and let your hand move slowly—very slowly."
And with an impotent moan, Mrs. Carroll took another sheet of paper and tried to subdue her trembling hands to the task for whose fulfillment her daughter was waiting so anxiously.