Page:The Yellow Book - 04.djvu/79

Rh and swaying for a second to and fro, fell hard across the fender and against the live bars of the grate.

Farrell sprang across the intervening space and swung her head away from the angry flames. She lay limp and still upon the hearth-rug, a smear of black streaking her white arm from the elbow, the smell of her frizzled gown fusing with the odour of burned hair. Her face was set white, the mouth peaked with a spasm of pain; the eyelids had not fully fallen, and a dreadful glimmer of light flickered from a slit in the unconscious eyes. He stood, struck weak and silent for a moment, and then flung himself upon the floor, and hung over the body.

"Letty, Letty!" he cried. "Letty, Letty! Oh, my God! have I killed you?" The flesh twitched upon the drawn face, and a moan issued from her lips. Farrell leapt to the bell-rope and pulled fast; and away in some distant depth the peals jangled in alarm. A servant threw open the door and rushed into the room.

"A doctor, a doctor!" cried Farrell, vehemently. "Get a doctor at once. Your mistress is ill. Do you hear, Jackson. God, man, don't stare at me. Go, go!"

As the door closed Farrell's glance stole back to the floor. His breath came fast as he contemplated the body. It lay there as though flung by the hand of death, and wore a pitiful aspect. It forbade him; it seemed to lower at him; he could not associate it with life, still less with Letty. It owned some separate and horrible existence of itself. The flames mounting in the fire threw out great flashes upon the recumbent figure, and the pale flesh took on a moving colour. Hours seem to pass as he stood beside her, and not until the quivering eyelids denoted a return of life did he gain courage to touch her. With that she became somehow familiar again; she was no more the blank of a woman. He put his arms beneath her and slowly lifted