Her eyes were half open, and the
black rings around them showed with ghastly plainness against the awful
pallor which the rest of her face had taken on. One hand was clenched.
The other was clutching her bodice, as if in the act of tearing it open.
A little foam flecked the blue lips.
Alta threw herself upon her mother's body, sobbing, "Oh, mamma, wake up!
do! do!"
"Is she dead?" asked Miss Ludington, in horrified accents.
"I don't know; I fear so. I warned her; I told her it would come. But she
would do it," cried the doctor incoherently, as he tried to feel her
pulse with one hand while he tore at the fastenings of her dress with the
other. He set Paul at work chafing the hands of the unconscious woman,
while Miss Ludington sprinkled her face and chest with ice-water from a
small pitcher that stood in a corner of the cabinet, and the doctor
himself endeavoured in vain to force some of the contents of a vial
through her clenched teeth. "It is of no use," he said, finally; "she is
past help--she is dead!"
At this Miss Ludington and Paul stood aside, and Alta, throwing herself
upon her mother's form, burst into an agony of tears.
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