Mary clinched her teeth, and set about her usual work; but very soon Lady Bassett gave a start, and stared into the glass.
"Mary!" said she, "what _is_ the matter?
You look ghastly, and your hands are as cold as ice.

Are you faint ?" "No." "Then you are ill; very ill." "I have taken a chill," said Mary, doggedly.
"Go instantly to the still-room maid, and get a large glass of spirits and hot water--quite hot." Mary, who wanted to be out of the room, fastened her mistress's back hair with dogged patience, and then moved toward the door.
"Mary," said Lady Bassett, in a half-apologetic tone.
"My lady." "I should like to hear what the bride is like." "I'll know that to-night," said Mary, grinding her teeth.
"I shall not require you again till bedtime." Mary left the room, and went, not to the still-room, but to her own garret, and there she gave way.

She flung herself, with a wild cry, upon her little bed, and clutched her own hair and the bedclothes, and writhed all about the bed like a wild-cat wounded.
In this anguish she passed an hour she never forgot nor forgave.

She got up at last, and started at her own image in the glass.

Hair like a savage's, cheek pale, eyes blood-shot.
She smoothed her hair, washed her face, and prepared to go downstairs; but now she was seized with a faintness, and had to sit down and moan.
She got the better of that, and went to the still-room, and got some spirits; but she drank them neat, gulped them down like water.