But it was a long time before Star revived. The shock to her nervous system had been a terrible one, and nature seemed loth to resume her sway after it. But at the end of half an hour her chest began to heave, and a slight tinge of color returned to her lips.
Ralph Meredith, who hung over her in an agony of suspense and fear, would let no one touch her or come near her, save his sister and Mr. Rosevelt; and he found that it required all the strength of his will to keep him from betraying to the gaping crowd the passionate love he entertained for the senseless girl.
Finally, to everybody’s relief, those white lids were unclosed, those beautiful eyes looked up, and a long, shuddering sigh shook her whole frame.
“What has happened?” she questioned, with a vacant look.
“You are faint, dear. Drink this and you will be better,” Grace Meredith said, gently, while she held a silver cup to her lips.
She swallowed the stimulus mechanically, and then began to shiver, as if from the cold.
“I remember,” she murmured, all the color fading from her face again, and they feared another season of unconsciousness would follow.
“Is he dead?” she asked, a moment after, beginning to rally once more.
“Yes; he was killed instantly,” Ralph Meredith returned.
“And Josephine—Miss Richards—is she safe?”