d. "Go to my room, and bring
me another bonnet and a veil. Stop!" She tried to rise, and sank back.
"I must have something to strengthen me. Get the sal volatile."

Marceline left the room. Mr. Gallilee followed her as far as the
door--still leading his little daughter.

"Go back, my dear, to your sister in the schoolroom," he said. "I am
distressed, Zo; be a good girl, and you will console me. Say the same to
Maria. It will be dull for you, I am afraid. Be patient, my child, and
try to bear it for a while."

"May I whisper something?" said Zo. "Will Carmina die?"

"God forbid!"

"Will they bring her back here?"

In her eagerness, the child spoke above a whisper. Mrs. Gallilee heard
the question, and answered it.

"They will bring Carmina back," she said, "the moment I can get out."

Zo looked at her father. "Do _you_ say that?" she asked.

He shook his head gravely, and told her again to go to the schoolroom.
On the first landing she stopped, and looked back. "I'll be good, papa,"
she said--and went on up the stairs.

Having reached the schoolroom, she became the object of many
questions--not one of which she answered. Followed by the dog, she sat
down in a corner. "What are you thinking about?" her sister inquired.
This time she was willing to reply. "I'm thinking about Carmina."

Mr. Gallilee closed the door when Zo left him. He took a chair, without
speaking to his wife or looking at her.

"What are you here for?" she asked.

"I must wait," he said.

"What for?"

"To see what you do."

Marceline returned, and administered a dose of sal volatile.
Strengthened by the stimulant, Mrs. Gallilee was able to rise. "My head
is giddy," she said, as she took the maid's arm; "but I think I can get
downstairs with your help."

Mr. Gallilee silently followed them out.

At the head of the stairs the giddiness increased. Firm as her
resolution might be, it gave way before the bodily injury which Mrs.
Gallilee had received. Her husband's help was again needed to take her
to her bedroom. She stopped them at the ante-chamber; still obstinately
bent on following her own designs. "I shall be better directly," she
said; "put me on the sofa." Marceline relieved her of her bonnet and
veil, and asked respectfully if there was any other service required.
She looked defiantly at her husband, and reiterated the order--"Send for
Joseph." Intelligent resolution is sometimes shaken; the inert obstinacy
of a weak creature,