He was gazing intently, not at Clorinda, but at the Earl of Dunstanwolde.
"Madam," he said, "pardon me that I seem to detain you, but--but I look at my kinsman.

Madam," with a sudden fear in his voice, "he is ailing--he sways as he stands.

Let us go to him.

Quickly! He falls!" And, in sooth, at that very moment there arose a dismayed cry from the guests about them, and there was a surging movement; and as they pressed forward themselves through the throng, Anne saw Dunstanwolde no more above the people, for he had indeed fallen and lay outstretched and deathly on the floor.
'Twas but a few seconds before she and Osmonde were close enough to him to mark his fallen face and ghastly pallor, and a strange dew starting out upon his brow.
But 'twas his wife who knelt beside his prostrate body, waving all else aside with a great majestic gesture of her arm.
"Back! back!" she cried.

"Air! air! and water! My lord! My dear lord!" But he did not answer, or even stir, though she bent close to him and thrust her hand within his breast.