A
horrible feeling of illness overtook her, and she found herself gasping for
breath. 'If I could only reach that medicine on my table!' she thought. But
she could not reach it. She lay helpless.
The door opened.
Was it a dream? She seemed to struggle through rushing waters back to land.
There was a low cry. A light step hurried across the room. Lucy Foster sank
on her knees beside her and threw her arms about her.
'Give me--those drops--on the table,' said Eleanor, with difficulty.
Lucy said not a word. Quietly, with steady hands, she brought and measured
the medicine. It was a strong heart-stimulant, and it did its work. But
while her strength came back, Lucy saw that she was shivering with cold,
and closed the window.
Then, silently, Lucy looked down upon the figure in the chair. She was
almost as white as Eleanor. Her eyes showed traces of tears. Her forehead
was still drawn with thought as it had been in the train.
Presently she sank again beside Eleanor.
'I came to see you, because I could not sleep, and I wanted to suggest a
plan to you. I had no idea you were ill. You should have called me before.'
Eleanor put out a feeble hand. Lucy took it tenderly, and laid it against
her cheek. She could not understand why Eleanor looked, at her with this
horror and wildness,--how it was that she came to be up, by this open
window, in this state of illness and collapse.
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