A Terrible Secret by May Agnes Fleming
page 70 of 573 (12%)
page 70 of 573 (12%)
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they know what she is about, she falls down in a faint in their midst.
They lift her up; they look into one another's pale faces. "My lady!" they repeat, in an awe-struck whisper. "_Murdered_!" "Here!" cries Mr. Hooper, his dignity coming to his aid, "let us investigate this here. Lay this young woman flat on her back on the floor, sprinkle her with water, and let her come to. I'm going to find out what she means." They lay poor Ellen stiffly out as directed, some one dashes water into her face, then in a body, with Mr. Hooper at their head, they march off to investigate. "She was in the day-nursery," Nurse Pool suggests, in a whisper, and to the day-nursery they go. On the threshold for a second or two they halt, their courage failing. But there is nothing very terrifying. Only the solemn moonlight, only the motionless little figure in the arm-chair. And yet a great awe holds them back. Does death--does murder stand grisly in their midst? "Let us go in, in the name of Providence," says Mr. Hooper, a tremble in his voice; "it--it can't be what she says. O good Lord, no!" They go forward on tiptoe, as if afraid of awakening that quiet sleeper whom only the last trump will ever awake now. They bend above her, holding their breath. Yes, there it is--the blood that is soaking her dress, dripping horribly on the carpet--oozing slowly from that |
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