Ah! we are
drawing near home," she continued with a sigh. "Dear home! why did I
leave it? There is something pure and holy in the very air of home. See,
papa! there is the church spire rising above the trees. The dear old elm
trees! We shall have time to think here, to hope, to pray; but who is
that woman lying along the bank. She is ill, or dead."
"Perhaps she is intoxicated," said Miss Dorothy.
"It is--yes--it is Mary Mathews!" cried Juliet, without noticing her
aunt's remark. "What can bring her here?"
"No good, you may be sure," remarked the Captain.
"Oh! stop the carriage, dear papa, and let us speak to her. She may know
something about the murder."
"You are right, Juliet; let us ask her a few questions."
They both left the carriage, and hurried to the spot where Mary,
overcome with fatigue and fever, lay insensible and unconscious of her
danger by the roadside.
Captain Whitmore lifted up the unhappy girl from the ground, and placed
her in the carriage, greatly to the indignation of Miss Dorothy, and
conveyed her to the Lodge. A medical gentleman in the neighborhood was
sent for; and Juliet, in the deep interest she felt for the alarming
state of the poor sufferer, for a while forgot her own poignant grief.
The next morning, on entering the parlor, she found Frederic Wildegrave
in close conversation with her father.
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