books and papers, and don't realize
what a disgrace it would be if I didn't marry, and after all the trouble
that mamma has taken. But I don't know what will become of me now. I'm
going to be dreadfully ill, and when I get well I shall be pretty no
longer; I am sure I am looking wretchedly. I must see myself--fetch the
glass, Alice, Alice.'

Olive lay whining and calling for her sister, and when Dr. Reed came he
ordered several inches of the pale silky hair to be cut away and a cold
lotion to be applied to the forehead, and some sliced lemons were given
to her to suck.

The clear blue eyes were dull, the breathing quick, the skin dry and
hot; and on the following day four leeches had to be applied to her
ankle. They relieved her somewhat, and, when she had taken her draught,
she sank to sleep. But as the night grew denser, Alice was suddenly
awakened by someone speaking wildly in her ear: 'Take me away, dear! I
am sick of home; I want to get away from all these spiteful girls. I
know they are laughing at me because Violet cut me out with the Marquis.
We shall be married, shan't we, the moment we arrive in Dublin? It's
horrible to be married at the registrar's, but it's better than not
being married at all. But do you think they will catch us up? It would
be dreadful to be taken back home, I couldn't bear it. Oh, do drive on;
we don't seem to be moving. You see that strange tree on the right, we
haven't passed it yet; I don't think we ever shall. Whip up that bay
horse; don't you see he is turning round, wants to go back? I am sure
that this isn't the road; that man at the corner told you a lie. I know
he was mocking at us--I saw it in his eye. . . . Look, look, Edward! Oh,
look--it is papa, or Lord Dungory, I can't tell which, he won't lift his
cloak.' And then the vision would fade, and she would fancy herself in
the wood, arguing once again with Mrs. Lawler. 'No, what you say isn't
true; he never loved you. How could he? You are an old woman. Let me
pass--let me pass. Why do you speak to me? We don't visit, we never did
visit you. No; it was not at our house you met Edward. You were on the
streets; and Edward shall not, he could not, think of running away with
you--will you, darling? Oh, help me, help me out of this dreadful wood.
I want to go home, but I can't walk. That terrible bird is still
watching me, and I dare not pass that tree till you drive it away.'

The two beds, with their white curtains and brass cro