"Mamma! mamma!" cried Rose in her terror.
"Hush!" cried Jacintha roughly, "hold your tongue: it is only a faint.
Help me loosen her: don't make any noise, whatever." They loosened her
stays, and applied the usual remedies, but it was some time before she
came-to. At last the color came back to her lips, then to her cheek, and
the light to her eye. She smiled feebly on Jacintha and Rose, and asked
if she had not been insensible.
"Yes, love, and frightened us--a little--not much--oh, dear! oh, dear!"
"Don't be alarmed, sweet one, I am better. And I will never do it again,
since it frightens you." Then Josephine said to her sister in a low
voice, and in the Italian language, "I hoped it was death, my sister;
but he comes not to the wretched."
"If you hoped that," replied Rose in the same language, "you do not love
your poor sister who so loves you."
While the Italian was going on, Jacintha's dark eyes glanced
suspiciously on each speaker in turn. But her suspicions were all wide
of the mark.
"Now may I go and tell mamma?" asked Rose.
"No, mademoiselle, you shall not," said Jacintha.
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