Page:Firecrackers a realistic novel.pdf/217

 bowl of white violets, and sought a telegraph form. What is her address? she queried.

The Countess gave her this information, and while Campaspe indited the message, lay back gasping. After the boy had called to take it, she mumbled, May I have a glass of water, Campaspe? Where is Miss Cottrell?

She's gone on anerrand. She'll be back directly'll get the water for you.

Why isn't she here? She should be here. I don't like to ask you to wait on me. The Countess was querulous.

Campaspe handed her the water. I'm only too glad to wait on you, dear Ella. I'll do anything you want done.

The bony claw continued to pluck the coverlet. A writhing shudder shook the skeleton lying under the bed-clothes. A hideous, glassy stare came into the eyes of the old woman, and she began to mutter, her lips gradually forming words, until, as she went on, eventually they gushed forth in a torrent. Wicked. . . Yes. . . Wicked. . . I have been. . . a very wicked. . . woman, Campaspe. Will God. . . Will God. . . forgive me, I wonder? How will he punish me? Yet, I meant. . . I meant it. . . to be all right. I was searching. . . searching. . . searching. I had a lantern, and they put it out. I lighted a candle and it was extinguished. They took it away