she had great claims to general admiration, and her death must be regarded as a calamity to persons in all stations of life.
I realised this myself, for I had heard much of the young lady’s private virtues, as well as of her great beauty and distinguished manner. A heavy loss, indeed, but—
“Was she alone when she fell?” I asked.
“Virtually alone. Some persons sat on the other side of the room, reading at the big round table. They did not even hear her fall. They say that the band was playing unusually loud in the musicians’ gallery.”
“Are you feeling quite well, now?”
“Quite myself,” I gratefully replied as I rose slowly from the sofa. Then, as my kind informer stepped aside, I turned to George with the proposal we should go now.
He seemed as anxious as myself to leave and together we moved towards the door, while the hum of excited comment which the intrusion of a fainting woman had undoubtedly interrupted, recommenced behind us till the whole room buzzed.
In the hall we encountered Mr. Slater, whom I have before mentioned. He was trying to maintain order while himself in a state of great agitation. Seeing us, he could not refrain from whispering a few words into my husband’s ear.
“The doctor has just gone up—her doctor, I mean. He’s simply dumbfounded. Says that she was the healthiest woman in New York yesterday—I think—don’t mention it, that he suspects something quite different from heart failure.”
“What do you mean?” asked George, following the assistant manager down the broad flight of steps leading to the office. Then, as I pressed up close to Mr. Slater’s other side, “She was by herself, wasn’t she, in the half floor above?”
“Yes, and had been writing a letter. She fell with it still in her hand.”
“Have they carried her to her room?” I eagerly inquired, glancing fearfully up at the large semi-circular openings overlooking us from the place where she had fallen.
“Not yet. Mr. Hammond insists upon
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