Woolper, with a look of
triumph. "What becomes of your fine story now?"
"It _is_ Miss Halliday!" cried the housemaid, as she opened the door.
"And O my!" she added, looking back into the hall with a sorrowful face,
"how bad she do look!"
Valentine ran out to the gate. Yes; there were two cabs, one laden with
luggage, the two cabmen busy about the doors of the vehicles, a little
group of stragglers waiting to see the invalid young lady alight. It was
the next best thing to a funeral.
"O, don't she look white!" cried a shrill girl with a baby in her arms.
"In a decline, I dessay, pore young thing," said a matron, in an audible
aside to her companion.
Valentine dashed amongst the group of stragglers. He pushed away the girl
with the baby, the housemaid who had run out behind him, Mr. Sheldon, the
cabman, every one; and in the next moment Charlotte was in his arms, and
he was carrying her into the house.
He felt as if he had been in a dream; and all that exceptional force
which the dreamer sometimes feels he felt in this crisis. He carried his
dear burden into the study, followed by Mr. Sheldon and Diana Paget. The
face that dropped upon his shoulder showed deadly white against his
dark-blue coat; the hand which he clasped in his, ah, how listless and
feeble!
"Valentine!" the girl said, in a low drowsy voice, lifting her eyes to
his face, "is this you? I have been so ill, so tired; and they would
bring me away.
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