But now when she saw the blanched face, the filmy eyes and stark look,
the finger pierced by the needle, she knew that a human heart had been
pierced too, with a pain worse than death--truly it was worse, for she
had seen death, and she had never seen anything like this in its dire
misery and horror. She caught the needle quickly from the finger,
wrapped her kerchief round the wound, threw away the sewing from Guida's
lap, and running an arm about her waist, made as if to lay a hot cheek
against the cold brow of her friend. Suddenly, however, with a new and
painful knowledge piercing her intelligence, and a face as white and
scared as Guida's own, she ran to the dresser, caught up a hanap, and
brought some water. Guida still sat as though life had fled, and the
body, arrested in its activity, would presently collapse.

Carterette, with all her seeming lightsomeness, had sense and self-
possession. She tenderly put the water to Guida's lips, with comforting
words, though her own brain was in a whirl, and dark forebodings flashed
through her mind.

"Ah, man gui, man pethe!" she said in the homely patois. "There, drink,
drink, dear, dear couzaine." Guida's lips opened, and she drank slowly,
putting her hand to her heart with a gesture of pain. Carterette put
down the hanap and caught her hands. "Come, come, these cold hands--
pergui, but we must stop that! They are so cold." She rubbed them hard.
"The poor child of heaven--what has come over you? Speak to me . . .
ah, but see, everything will come all right by and by! God is good.
Nothing's as bad as what it seems. There was never a grey wind but
there's a greyer. Nanningia, take it not so to heart, my couzaine; thou
shalt have love enough in the world.... Ah, grand doux d'la vie, but I
could kill him!" she added under her breath, and she rubbed Guida's hands
still, and looked frankly, generously into her eyes.