On the floor the miserable woman lay, her eyes closed, her jaw fallen.

By her side, supporting her head, the younger woman knelt, holding a glass of water to her lips.
The Reverend Cyrus Green stood gravely looking on.
"Is she dead ?" Sir Jasper asked, in a hard voice.
It was to the clergyman he spoke, but the girl looked fiercely up, her tones like a serpent's hiss.
"Not dead, Sir Jasper Kingsland! No thanks to you for it! Murderer--as much a murderer as if you had cut her throat--look on her, and be proud of the ruin you have wrought!" "Silence, woman!" Mr.Green ordered, imperiously.

"We will have none of your mad recriminations here.

She is not dead, Sir Jasper, but she is dying, I think.

This young woman wishes to remove her--whither, I know not--but it is simply impossible.