As if the shock of its fall stayed for an instant even the movement of the world, a silence fell on all: then, as the roar of conflict rose again, louder, more vengeful, with a new note in it, she caught her mother in her arms.
"Mother! Mother!" she cried.

"Mother!" The elder woman was white to the lips.

"Get me to bed!" she muttered.
"Get me to bed!" She had lost the power even to stand.

That she had ever borne, even for a yard, the great pot which it taxed Anne's utmost strength to carry upstairs was a miracle.

But a miracle were all the circumstances connected with the act.
Anne carried her back and laid her on the bed, greatly fearing for her.
And thenceforth for a while the girl's horizon, so wide and stormy an instant before, was narrowed to the bed beside which she stood, narrowed to the dear face on which the lamplight fell, disclosing its death-like pallor.