"If she is not dead she is dying," persisted the girl in a hoarse voice. "No, don't touch her; don't dare to touch her!" as Miss Titheridge, with a sudden feeling of remorse, bent over the unconscious child and lifted the little cold hand. "It is in your house this deed is done; ask Fraulein, who has shut her up in the dark for hours, pinching with cold and hunger, and in spite of all her cries to be released; ask Cathy; ask Clarice; ask any of them."
"Fraulein, is this true?" and Miss Titheridge looked absolutely shocked. She had treated the poor orphan with hardness and severity, but she was not a bad woman. A sudden revulsion of feeling came over her as she looked at the prostrate figure in Cathy's lap; "Fraulein, is it true that you could have acted so barbarously?"
"It is true; and it is not the first time," returned Queenie. "If she dies, Miss Titheridge, her death will lie at your door as well as Fraulein's; if she die, look to yourselves, for I will have justice, if there is justice in England. All Carlisle shall know how you have treated the child committed to your care. As to that woman," pointing with her finger to Fraulein, who now looked on in stupid terror at this scene, "she will live to rue this day if Emmie dies."
"Hush, hush, my dear Miss Marriott; be calm and reasonable, I entreat you." Miss Titheridge had turned very pale, she was quite cowed by the girl's fierce despair. There was a wild, strange light in Queenie's eyes as she faced them, as she hurled words of righteous wrath at the shrinking women. "My dear Miss Marriott, I am more grieved than I can say. I will do what you like. Send for a doctor; do what you please; only be calm."
"Calm!" repeated Queenie, in a voice of such utter heartbreak that tears positively came to Miss Titheridge's hard eyes.
"Yes; send for a doctor; do something all of you," implored Cathy; but as one or two of the girls stepped up timidly with proffers of assistance Queenie waved them fiercely away.
"No; you none of you loved her; you shall not touch her. Give her to me. Come with me, Cathy;" and as Cathy obeyed her wondering, Queenie led the way to Cathy's room, and laid her on Cathy's bed.
"Shut them all out; I will have no one but you," she had said to her friend. When the doctor arrived he found the two girls trying vainly to restore animation to the child.
He shook his head very gravely when Cathy told him all, for Queenie never spoke again during that dreadful night. "This is a sad case," he said at last, after a careful examination. "When she wakes up I fear she will not know you; brain fever is the least we can expect from such a shock. Acute terror on an exhausted system often leads to very sad results, especially with nervous children." But though he spoke in a low tone, Queenie heard him.