d so:

"For the love of Heaven, Maurice, collect yourself; she may bleed to
death if you prevent Mrs. Lawkins from doing what is needful to stop the
blood."

Maurice struggled with him, as he exclaimed, hopelessly, "She is dead!
she is dead!"

"She is _not_ dead, but you may kill her if you refuse to let Mrs.
Lawkins bind up her wounds."

Maurice no longer resisted, and Mrs. Lawkins wiped away the blood, and
commenced bandaging the fair, wounded head. The pale features had been
stained with the crimson flood, and, as Mrs. Lawkins bathed them, their
marble whiteness and stillness were appalling.

Bertha had not ceased to sob, though Gaston, the instant he could safely
relinquish his hold of Maurice, essayed by every means in his power to
soothe her.

The countess was gazing upon Madeleine with an air of stupefied grief.
Bertha, who had no control over her passionate sorrow, as her eyes fell
upon Madame de Gramont, cried out, reproachfully,--

"Aunt, but for her, you would have been killed! You who never loved her!
She has lost her life in trying to save yours!"

The countess did not appear to heed the cruel words, though they were
the echo of her own thoughts.

Mrs. Lawkins' skilful ministry had stanched the blood and Madeleine's
head and arm were bound up; but still she lay like some lovely statue,
her lips apart and hueless,--her eyes closed, and the dark lashes
sweeping her alabaster cheeks; while her long hair, still dripping with
its crimson moisture, was lifted over the pillow. As Mrs. Lawkins,
having accomplished her sad task, drew back, Maurice pressed into her
place, and Bertha crowded in beside him, loading the senseless Madeleine
with caresses and tender epithets; then, as she turned to her aunt, who
had raised herself on her elbow, and was also bending over the lifeless
figure, exclaimed impetuously,--

"Oh! how could you help loving her? We all loved her so much! Cousin
Tristan said she was his good angel, and she has been the good angel of
all our family; but our good angel is gone! We have lost her through
you!"

Bertha's overwhelming sorrow had swept away all her former dread of her
aunt, whom her reproaches deeply stung. They were the first Madame de
Gramont had ever heard from those timid lips. At that moment the
conscience-stricken woman would have made any sacrifice, even of her
pride, to have seen Madeleine restored to life. While contemplating that
angelic face, now so still and white