Amy’s voice died away in a last “Good-bye!” and she rushed from the piano, with pale face and trembling lips, gasping out: 

“What has happened?  What is the matter?”

“She has been stunned by a lightning-flash,” I said, trying to speak calmly, while I loosened Zara’s dress and sprinkled her forehead with eau-de-Cologne from a scent-bottle Mrs. Challoner had handed to me.  “She will recover in a few minutes.”

But my limbs trembled under me, and tears, in spite of myself, forced their way into my eyes.

Heliobas meanwhile—­his countenance white and set as a marble mask—­ shut the window fiercely, pulled down the blind, and drew the heavy silken curtains close.  He then approached his sister’s senseless form, and, taking her wrist tenderly, felt for her pulse.  We looked on in the deepest anxiety.  The Challoner girls shivered with terror, and began to cry.  Mrs. Everard, with more self-possession, dipped a handkerchief in cold water and laid it on Zara’s temples; but no faint sigh parted the set yet smiling lips—­no sign of life was visible.  All this while the rain swept down in gusty torrents and rattled furiously against the window-panes; while the wind, no longer a moan, had risen into a shriek, as of baffled yet vindictive anger.  At last Heliobas spoke.

“I should be glad of other medical skill than my own,” he said, in low and stifled accents.  “This may be a long fainting-fit.”

Mr. Challoner at once proffered his services.

“I’ll go for you anywhere you like,” he said cheerily; “and I think my wife and daughters had better come with me.  Our carriage is sure to be in waiting.  It will be necessary for the lady to have perfect quiet when she recovers, and visitors are best away.  You need not be alarmed, I am sure.  By her colour it is evident she is only in a swoon.  What doctor shall I send?”

Heliobas named one Dr. Morini, 10, Avenue de l’Alma.

“Right!  He shall be here straight.  Come, wife—­come, girls!  Mrs. Everard, we’ll send back our carriage for you and the Colonel.  Good-night!  We’ll call to-morrow and inquire after mademoiselle.”

Heliobas gratefully pressed his hand as he withdrew, and his wife and daughters, with whispered farewells, followed him.  We who were left behind all remained near Zara, doing everything we could think of to restore animation to that senseless form.

Some of the servants, too, hearing what had happened, gathered in a little cluster at the drawing-room door, looking with pale and alarmed faces at the death-like figure of their beautiful mistress.  Half an hour or more must have passed in this manner; within the room there was a dreadful silence—­but outside the rain poured down in torrents, and the savage wind howled and tore at the windows like a besieging army.  Suddenly Amy Everard, who had been quietly and skilfully assisting me in rubbing Zara’s hands and bathing her forehead, grew faint, staggered, and would have fallen had not her husband caught her on his arm.