To her mother's consternation, and even annoyance, Virginia slipped off her chair in a dead faint.
With a sense of acute injury at being called upon to render such service, the plump, useless hands succeeded in lowering the girl to the floor. Then, still resentful, Mrs. Mynors actually got a wet sponge and laid it on her daughter's forehead. This not succeeding, she found eau-de-Cologne and applied that. After a time Virginia slowly returned to life, and to a knowledge of the enormity of her behaviour. She dragged herself to her mother's bed, and lay down there until her swimming senses should readjust themselves.
They were ruined; and her mother was buying winter coats and bottles of perfume! It was really laughable.
"You cannot reproach me, really, Virgie," said her mother presently, speaking with sad submissiveness from out her cloud of hair. "You must see that I could not help spending that money, and also that I never dreamed what would be the result of getting behindhand with my payments. Our own lawyer ought to have warned me. I consider him much to blame in the matter."
Virginia had nothing at all to say.
"I can see that you do blame me!" sharply cried Mrs. Mynors. "You lie there without a word of comfort—as if I had ruined you and not myself too! I suppose it is as hard for me as for you."
Virgie turned her face over and hid it on the pillow.
After gazing at her for some time, in a mood which accusing conscience made bitter, Mrs. Mynors decided to play her trump card.
"You need not put on all these airs of tragic despair, Virgie. I have told you the bad news first. This morning I have had other news—the most extraordinary thing—the most unlikely coincidence—that you ever heard! Do you want me to tell you about it, or are you too ill to pay any attention?"
Virgie made an effort and sat up. "I'm so sorry, mother. It was very sudden, you know, and it is all so horrible—like falling over a precipice. I felt as if I could not grasp it. I am better now."