Holdsworth was stunned, and stood for some moments staring idly from the porch. He then returned hastily to Dolly’s side.
“She’s comin’ to, sir,” said Mrs. Parrot, slapping the poor girl’s hand, and expending what breath she had upon the cold white forehead. “What awful noos, sir!... Conway dead! I can’t believe it. And drowned, too! Oh, poor wretch!”
“Hush!” exclaimed Holdsworth.
Dolly had opened her eyes, and was staring blindly at him. He moistened his handkerchief with water on the sideboard and pressed it to her head. Nelly stood at the window gazing at her mother with a look of wistful fear in her face. At the door was Martha’s countenance, seamed with lines of perspiration, her mouth open, and her hair hanging like a string of young carrots over her forehead.
“I feel very weak,” muttered Dolly, striving to sit upright, but falling back.
“Something terrible has happened. Ah! Robert is dead!”
The memory rushed upon her like a spasm, and she spoke in a cry.
“Come, my dear, don’t try to speak yet,” said Mrs. Parrot.
“Where is Nelly?”