clenched, her eyes flashing, her teeth set hard.

She had not drawn near her mother, or given her one word of welcome or
thanks for having turned aside from her journey to inquire into her
welfare.

"'Oh, sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child!'"
exclaimed Mrs. Conly in anguished accents, rising as if to go, but
instantly falling heavily to the floor.

Virginia rushed to her side, half frantic with terror.

"Oh, mother, mother, what is it? What have I done! what have I done! I
know you're the best friend I have in the world!" she cried, stooping over
her, loosening her bonnet-strings and dress, and trying vainly to lift her
to the lounge, for she was a large, heavy woman and now in a state of
utter insensibility, her face purple, her breathing stertorous.

The sound of her fall and Virginia's terrified shriek had brought the
neighbors flocking upon the scene; some of the boldest opening the door
and ushering themselves in without the ceremony of knocking.

"The lady's in a fit!" cried a woman, hurrying to Virginia's assistance;
"you've druv her to distraction; you shouldn't a ben so abusive; I could
hear ye clear into my room a scoldin' and accusin' of her of makin' your
match fer ye."

"Run for a doctor, some of you!" cried Virginia, standing by the couch
where, with the woman's help, she had laid her mother, and wringing her
hands in helpless distress. "Oh, she'll die! she'll die! Mother, mother!