at once. It fell to Courtland to look after the girl, for the doctor had
not been able to leave his practice to take the long ride to the
cemetery. She, it seemed, did not hear what they said, nor care who went
with her.

Courtland led her to the carriage and put her in. "I suppose you will
want to go directly back to the house?" he said.

She turned to him as if she were coming out of a trance. She caught her
breath and gave him one wild, beseeching look, crying out with something
like a sob: "Oh, how can I _ever_ go back to that room _now_?" And then
her breath seemed suddenly to leave her and she fell back against the
seat as if she were lifeless.

He sprang in beside her, took her in his arms, resting her head against
his shoulder, loosened her coat about her throat, and chafed her cold
hands, drawing the robes closely about her slender shoulders, but she
lay there white and without a sign, of life. He thought he never had
seen anything so ghastly white as her face.

The driver came around and offered a bottle of brandy. They forced a few
drops between her teeth, and after a moment there came a faint flutter
of her eyelids. She came to herself for just an instant, looked about
her, realized her sorrow once more, and dropped off into oblivion again.

"She's in a bad way!" murmured the driver, looking worried. "I guess
we'd better get her somewheres. I don't want to have no responsibility.
My chief's gone back to the city, and the other man's gone across the to
West Side. I reckon we'd better go on and stop at some hospital if she
don't come to pretty soon."