Meredith, and
the one she carried to Arthur. But Valencia's anger quickly cooled,
and she trembled with fear when she saw how deathly white her mistress
grew at first and heard the loud beating of her heart, which seemed
trying to burst from its prison and fall bleeding at the feet of the
poor, wretched girl, around whose lips the white foam gathered as she
motioned Valencia to stop and whispered:
"I am dying!"
She was not dying, but the fainting fit which ensued was longer and
more like death than that which had come upon Anna when she heard that
Arthur was lost. Twice they thought her heart had ceased to beat, and,
in an agony of remorse, Valencia hung over her, accusing herself as
her murderer, but giving no other explanation to those around her
than: "I was combing her hair when the white froth spirted all over
her wrapper, and she said that she was dying."
And that was all the family knew of the strange attack, which lasted
till the dawn of the day, and left upon Lucy's face a look as if years
and years of anguish had passed over her young head and left its
footprints behind.
Early in the morning she asked to see Valencia alone, and the
repentant girl went to her prepared to take back all she had said and
declare the whole a lie.
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