As she passed her mother's door, a glimmer of light along the threshold made her pause for a minute, and while she hesitated, an anxious voice floated out to her: "Gabriella, is that you ?" "Yes, Mother, do you want anything ?" "Jane has one of her heart attacks.

I put her to bed in my room because it is more comfortable than the dining-room.

Don't you think you had better go back and wake Marthy ?" "Is she ill?
Let me come in," answered Gabriella, pushing open the door and brushing by Mrs.Carr, who stood, shrunken and shivering, in a gray flannel wrapper and felt slippers.
Though Jane's attacks were familiar occurrences, they never failed to produce an immediate panic in the household.

As a child of nine, Gabriella remembered being aroused in the middle of a bitter night, hastily wrapped in her mother's shawl and a blanket, and hurried up the staircase to Jane, who had broken her engagement to Charley the evening before.

Jane, pale, angelic, palpitating, appeared to draw her last breath as they entered, while the old doctor supported her in his arms, and Marthy, in a frenzy of service, rattled the dead embers in the grate.