‘Oh, I wish mamma would come!’ said Fanny, wringing her hands.  ’I never was in the room with a dead person before.’

’Stay, miss!  She’s not dead:  her eye-lids are quivering, and here’s wet tears a-coming down her cheeks.  Speak to her, Miss Fanny!’

‘Are you better now?’ asked Fanny, in a quavering voice.

No answer; no sign of recognition; but a faint pink colour returned to her lips, although the rest of her face was ashen pale.

Mrs. Thornton came hurriedly in, with the nearest surgeon she could find.  ‘How is she?  Are you better, my dear?’ as Margaret opened her filmy eyes, and gazed dreamily at her.  ’Here is Mr. Lowe come to see you.’

Mrs. Thornton spoke loudly and distinctly, as to a deaf person.  Margaret tried to rise, and drew her ruffled, luxuriant hair instinctly over the cut.  ‘I am better now,’ said she, in a very low, faint voice.  I was a little sick.’  She let him take her hand and feel her pulse.  The bright colour came for a moment into her face, when he asked to examine the wound in her forehead; and she glanced up at Jane, as if shrinking from her inspection more than from the doctor’s.

‘It is not much, I think.  I am better now.  I must go home.’

’Not until I have applied some strips of plaster; and you have rested a little.’

She sat down hastily, without another word, and allowed it to be bound up.

‘Now, if you please,’ said she, ’I must go.  Mamma will not see it, I think.  It is under the hair, is it not?’

‘Quite; no one could tell.’

‘But you must not go,’ said Mrs. Thornton, impatiently.  ’You are not fit to go.

‘I must,’ said Margaret, decidedly.  ’Think of mamma.  If they should hear——­Besides, I must go,’ said she, vehemently.  ’I cannot stay here.  May I ask for a cab?’

‘You are quite flushed and feverish,’ observed Mr. Lowe.

’It is only with being here, when I do so want to go.  The air—­getting away, would do me more good than anything,’ pleaded she.

‘I really believe it is as she says,’ Mr. Lowe replied.  ’If her mother is so ill as you told me on the way here, it may be very serious if she hears of this riot, and does not see her daughter back at the time she expects.  The injury is not deep.  I will fetch a cab, if your servants are still afraid to go out.’

‘Oh, thank you!’ said Margaret.  ’It will do me more good than anything.  It is the air of this room that makes me feel so miserable.’

She leant back on the sofa, and closed her eyes.  Fanny beckoned her mother out of the room, and told her something that made her equally anxious with Margaret for the departure of the latter.  Not that she fully believed Fanny’s statement; but she credited enough to make her manner to Margaret appear very much constrained, at wishing her good-bye.

Mr. Lowe returned in the cab.

’If you will allow me, I will see you home, Miss Hale.  The streets are not very quiet yet.’