"You mustn't talk any more; the excitement isn't good for you. ’ I said. I hear her coming. "You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight. The eldest, Constance, was lost, by the carelessness of a servant, during her infancy, and has never since been heard of: the youngest, Aliva, is the present Lady Trafford. It had been a trying day. A little Cockney recovered it, and made ridiculous attempts to get to her and replace it. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters.
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