Oh, God! I could not fly.

It came--it seized me by the hair.

I know no more.

I know no more." She passed her hand across her neck several times, and Mr.Marchdale said, in an anxious voice,-- "You seem, Flora, to have hurt your neck--there is a wound." "A wound!" said the mother, and she brought a light close to the bed, where all saw on the side of Flora's neck a small punctured wound; or, rather two, for there was one a little distance from the other.
It was from these wounds the blood had come which was observable upon her night clothing.
"How came these wounds ?" said Henry.
"I do not know," she replied.

"I feel very faint and weak, as if I had almost bled to death." "You cannot have done so, dear Flora, for there are not above half-a-dozen spots of blood to be seen at all." Mr.Marchdale leaned against the carved head of the bed for support, and he uttered a deep groan.