stateliness of her present bearing with the cringing
attitude of a few minutes before--when, without warning or any
premonitory sound, all that beauty and pride and splendor collapsed
before my eyes, and she fell at my feet, senseless.

CHAPTER VII. A MOVING SHADOW

I bent to lift the prostrate form of the unhappy woman who had been
placed in my care. As I did so I heard something like a snarl over
my shoulder, and, turning, saw Nixon stretching eager arms toward his
mistress, whose fall he had doubtless heard.

"Let me! let me!" he cried, his old form trembling almost to the point
of incapacity.

"We will lift her together," I rejoined; and though his eyes sparkled
irefully, he accepted my help and together we carried her into her own
room and laid her on a lounge. I have had some training as a nurse
and, perceiving that Mrs. Packard had simply fainted, I was not at all
alarmed, but simply made an effort to restore her with a calmness that
for some reason greatly irritated the old man.

"Shall I call Ellen? Shall I call Letty?" he kept crying, shifting from
one foot to another in a frightened and fussy way that exasperated me
almost beyond endurance. "She doesn't breathe; she is white, white! Oh,
what will the mayor say? I will call Letty."

But I managed to keep him under control and finally succeeded
in restoring Mrs. Packard--a double task demanding not a little
self-control and discretion. When the flutter of her eyelids showed that
she would soon be conscious, I pointed out these signs of life to my
uneasy companion and hinted very broadly that the fewer people Mrs.
Packard found about her on coming to herself, the better she would be
pleased. His aspect grew quite ferocious at this, and for a moment I
almost feared him; but as I continued to urge the necessity of avoiding
any fresh cause of agitation in one so weak, he gradually shrank
back from my side where he had kept a jealous watch until now, and
reluctantly withdrew into the hall.

Another moment and Mrs. Packard had started to rise; but, on seeing
me and me only standing before her, she fell wearily back, crying in a
subdued way, which nevertheless was very intense:

"Don't, don't let him come in--see me--or know. I must be by myself; I
must be! Don't you see that I am frightened?"

The words came out with such force I was startled. Leaning over her,
with the natural sympathy her condition called for, I asked quietly but
firmly:

"Whom