“Oh, my God!” groaned Cora.  “What has that got to do with your going into it?  You’re not going to risk any money!  I don’t ask you to spend anything, do I?  You haven’t got it if I did.  All Mr. Corliss wants is your name.  Can’t you give even that?  What importance is it?”

“Well, if it isn’t important, what difference does it make whether I give it or not?”

She flung up her arms as in despairing appeal for patience.  “It is important to him!  Richard will do it if you will be secretary of the company:  he promised me.  Mr. Corliss told me your name was worth everything here:  that men said downtown you could have been rich long ago if you hadn’t been so square.  Richard trusts you; he says you’re the most trusted man in town——­”

“That’s why I can’t do it,” he interrupted.

“No!” Her vehemence increased suddenly to its utmost.  “No!  Don’t you say that, because it’s a lie.  That isn’t the reason you won’t do it.  You won’t do it because you think it would please me!  You’re afraid it might make me happy!  Happy—­happy—­happy!” She beat her breast and cast herself headlong upon the sofa, sobbing wildly.  “Don’t come near me!” she screamed at Laura, and sprang to her feet again, dishevelled and frantic.  “Oh, Christ in heaven! is there such a thing as happiness in this beast of a world?  I want to leave it.  I want to go away:  I want so to die:  Why can’t I?  Why can’t I!  Why can’t I!  Oh, God, why can’t I die?  Why can’t——­”

Her passion culminated in a shriek:  she gasped, was convulsed from head to foot for a dreadful moment, tore at the bosom of her dress with rigid bent fingers, swayed; then collapsed all at once.  Laura caught her, and got her upon the sofa.  In the hall, Mrs. Madison could be heard running and screaming to Hedrick to go for the doctor.  Next instant, she burst into the room with brandy and camphor.

“I could only find these; the ammonia bottle’s empty,” she panted; and the miserable father started hatless, for the drug-store, a faint, choked wail from the stricken girl sounding in his ears:  “It’s—­it’s my heart, mamma.”

It was four blocks to the nearest pharmacy; he made what haste he could in the great heat, but to himself he seemed double his usual weight; and the more he tried to hurry, the less speed appeared obtainable from his heavy legs.  When he reached the place at last, he found it crowded with noisy customers about the “soda-fount”; and the clerks were stonily slow:  they seemed to know that they were “already in eternity.”  He got very short of breath on the way home; he ceased to perspire and became unnaturally dry; the air was aflame and the sun shot fire upon his bare head.  His feet inclined to strange disobediences:  he walked the last block waveringly.  A solemn Hedrick met him at the door.

“They’ve got her to bed,” announced the boy.  “The doctor’s up there.”