Now was the moment.

The crisis was upon her.

But poor Mrs.Mack, just as she was about to say her little say about the front windows and opposite neighbours, and the privacy of the back bed-room, and to propose their retiring thither, felt a sinking of the heart--a deadly faintness, and an instinctive conviction that she was altogether overmatched, and that she could not hope to play successfully any sort of devil's game with that all-seeing sorceress.

She had always thought she was a plucky woman till she met Mistress Mary.

Before _her_ her spirit died within her--her blood flowed hurriedly back to her heart, leaving her body cold, pale, and damp, and her soul quailing under her gaze.
She cleared her voice twice, and faltered an enquiry, but broke down in panic; and at that moment Biddy popped in her head-- 'The doctor, Ma'am, was sent for to Lucan, an' he won't be back till six o'clock, an' he left no peppermint drops for you, Ma'am, an' do you want me, if you plase, Ma'am ?' 'Go down, Biddy, that'll do,' said Mrs.Mack, growing first pale, and then very red.
Mary Matchwell scented death afar off; for her the air was always tainted with ominous perfumes.