Mrs. Leslie was filled with dismay and terror at the result of her thoughtless communication to her protege.
"What a silly tattler I am to tell such shocking things to that poor sick child," she said to herself, with lively compunction.
Then she flew to the dressing-table, and securing a bottle of eau de cologne, proceeded to drench Irene's face vigorously.
The result of her treatment was that Irene speedily gasped, shivered and opened her eyes.
"Oh, you are alive yet, are you, my dear?" exclaimed her friend. "I was afraid I had killed you with my foolish tales."
"Then it wasn't true—you were jesting with me?" exclaimed the girl, unconsciously clasping her small hands around her friend's arm, and lifting her dark, anxious eyes to her face.
"Eh? what, my dear?" Mrs. Leslie asked, rather vaguely.
"The wreck, you know—the people who were drowned," Irene answered, with a shudder. "Is it true?"
"Oh, yes, child, every word of it, I am sorry to say, but I oughtn't to have told you about it while you were feeling so badly. It shocked you very much, poor dear."
"Yes, it shocked me very much," Irene replied, in a strange voice. "You were saying—were you not?—that one of your friends was—was—drowned," she concluded, with a faint quiver in the last word.