Her maid, her well-bred Jane Cupp, who had not drawn an indecorous breath since assuming her duties, was running after her calling out to her, waving her hands, her face distorted, her voice hysteric.
Emily had been just on the point of stepping on to the bridge, her hand had been outstretched towards the rail.

She drew back a step in alarm and stood staring.

How strange everything seemed to-day.

She began to feel choked and trembling.
A few seconds and Jane was upon her, clutching at her dress.

She had so lost her breath that she was almost speechless.
"My lady," she panted.