The St. Cloud journal., 1872-04-11

all the leaden inertness of Deaths
counterfeit, rests in my strained arms.
No one knows until theyshave tried it,
how heavy dead and swooned persons
are. l stagger under my sisters weight
and with difficulty, and many bumps
both to her and myself, got her down
ON the floor, where the little icy airs
come and ruff1e her useless laccs and
her soft tossed locks. Then I fly to
the bell, open the door, aud call might
lily down the passage. .'lou,se p l
cry, "Louise !" as Sylvia's French
maid comes floating alrily along-not
in the least hurrying herself, but rath-
er throwing gallantries over her should
er, aslt were, to strange valet in the
middle distance. 'Louise Louise {!
Make haste Mademciselle Lenore is
so i'll l do not know what has hap
peDcd to her all of a sudden, too
she has faiutod, think suppose
it is faint, is not it" Cooking nervous
ly in her face, "not any thing ,eorse !'
Louise gives little yell, and says
"My God !" IN her mother-tongue, in
which flippant language that adjuratiou
does not sound half so solemn. Then
We kneel down, one on each side of her,
sprinkle water in her face, considerably
to the injury Of her tucker:-pour bran
dy down her unconscious throat-hold
strong smelling.salts to her nostrils-
roughly chafe her dead bands-use all
the unpleasant asperities, in fact, that
are supposed necessary to induce peo-
pie to come back to that lite which, as
a rule, they are SO loath to quit. But
it is all to no purpose; she shows no
sign of returning consciousness.
II do not half like it," I say, looking
apprehepsiyely across at my coadjutor,
and speaking in an uuintentional whis.
per. 81 have not a notion what to do
next Run, Louise, and tell John to 60
quickly as be CAN for DR.. Rlley-and-
aud-I do not like being LETT here by
myself with her-send Mrs. Prodgers." !"
"What do you want with me ?" cries
Silvia, pcttishly, coming fu*siog in 4
.,rute or two later evidently In CON-
plete ignorance of the crrand on which
| have sent for her.
&C. wish Jru would not send such
mysterious messages. I am so nervous
already that do net know what to do
with myself l declare, just DOW, when
Lord Sligo was talking to me, I had no
more idea what he was saying-Good
God !" Catching sight of Lenorc's stiff
PROSTATE white figure, "what has hap
pened? What has she done to herself
now ?"
'She has faintcd,'' repeat I briefly,
"all Of sudden, before l could look
round !; and We cannot bring her to"
"Good gracious, how dreadful p
cires Sylvia, kneeling daiDtily down
on the floor, to not, however, before
she had plucked up her violet-velvet
skirts. "What does one do when peo.
pie faint ?-put cold keys down their
backs-cut their stay-laces-hold look.
ing-glasses before their mouths-oh, no,
of course, that is to see whether they
are-Heaveus, Jemima p Cher face
blushing) "you do not think she is
Mrs. Prodgers has an lnvctcrate aver.
sion for pronouncing the little four.lct.
tered word, that, in its plain shortnees
expresses the destiny Of the nations.
"Nonsense !" cry I, ansrily, again
seizing the salts, and tutilely holding
them to her nose.
"Feel whether her heart beats" say'
Sylvia, looking very white, breathing
rather short, and speaking in an awe
whisper. II am afraid to do it mysel
Il dare not you are feeling th'
wrong side, are not you ?-they say j
is nearly in the middle"
Complying with these anatomical in
structione, l feel. Yes, it beats. Life
little hammer is still knocking feebl,
against its ne'ghbor ribs.
"Shc will be all right, just now, 0
course it is only that we arc not use'
to this sort of things. I never was th
least frightened myself" say I, dought
lily, but not altogether truly.
81 wish her eyes were quite shut,
says Sylvia, peeriog into Lencre's swoon
ed face with the Mortified curiosity of
child "they look so dreadful, showing
a bit Of the pupil"
"The wedding will have to be put of
of course" say /, rising, and walkin
toward the c'ook "halfp past clever
now it is very certain that she will 70
be we'll enough to be married befor
twelve"
"But the people ~ cries my sister
squattipg in a dismayed purple heap o
n or, for the moment utterly Oblivion
Of nervousness, swansdown, or even {
the aptness of velvet to crease, Jules
set upon straight: "They are all come
everybody is dressed ; most Of them ar
already at the church the bishop ha
been there half an hour"
l shake my head. II cannot b
helped"
"And the breakfast!' cries Mr.:
Prodgers as fresh and worse aspect {
the calamity presents itself to her mine
"Of course, the cold things do not ma
ter ; they will be as good tomorrow c