She tossed her arms above her head with a shrill scream, frightfully prolonged till it ended in low moanings and murmurings; then turned her face from us again, and pulled her hair over it once more.

“I am afraid she is too far gone,” said the doctor; “but make another trial.”

“Margaret,” I said again, “have you forgotten me?  Margaret!”

She looked at me once more.  This time, her dry, dull eyes seemed to soften, and her fingers twined themselves less passionately in her hair.  She began to laugh—­a low, vacant, terrible laugh.

“Yes, yes,” she said, “I know he’s come at last; I can make him do anything.  Get me my bonnet and shawl; any shawl will do, but a mourning shawl is best, because we are going to the funeral of our wedding.  Come, Basil! let’s go back to the church, and get unmarried again; that’s what I wanted you for.  We don’t care about each other.  Robert Mannion wants me more than you do—­he’s not ashamed of me because my father’s a tradesman; he won’t make believe that he’s in love with me, and then marry me to spite the pride of his family.  Come!  I’ll tell the clergyman to read the service backwards; that makes a marriage no marriage at all, everybody knows.”

As the last wild words escaped her, some one below stairs called to Mr. Bernard.  He went out for a minute, then returned again, telling me that he was summoned to a case of sudden illness which he must attend without a moment’s delay.

“The medical man whom I found here when I first came,” he said, “was sent for this evening into the country, to be consulted about an operation, I believe.  But if anything happens, I shall be at your service.  There is the address of the house to which I am now going” (he wrote it down on a card); “you can send, if you want me.  I will get back, however, as soon as possible, and see her again; she seems to be a little quieter already, and may become quieter still, if you stay longer.  The night-nurse is below—­I will send her up as I go downstairs.  Keep the room well ventilated, the windows open as they are now.  Don’t breathe too close to her, and you need fear no infection.  Look! her eyes are still fixed on you.  This is the first time I have seen her look in the same direction for two minutes together; one would think she really recognised you.  Wait till I come back, if you possibly can—­I won’t be a moment longer than I can help.”

He hastily left the room.  I turned to the bed, and saw that she was still looking at me.  She had never ceased murmuring to herself while Mr. Bernard was speaking; and she did not stop when the nurse came in.