Miss Hofland had taken the girl’s inanimate figure into her arms. “I’m almost too cold myself to be of any use to her,” she said, shivering at the contact of the frozen limbs. Mrs. Mills put down her candle by the bedside, where it threw a strange side light upon that tragic mask on the pillow, with the open mouth and staring, awful eyes. Was it Hetty? Was it possible it could be Hetty? All human identity as of feature, or age, or character seemed to have gone out of the rigid face. The housekeeper had her wits all about her--the self-command, Miss Hofland instinctively reflected, of a person not taken by surprise. She gave a few orders to the frightened women, who stood huddled together staring at the foot of the bed, to shut the window, to light fires and prepare hot water. Then she came back to the bedside, quite cool, professional, unexcited. “If it’s cataleptic, all we can do won’t make much difference,” she said calmly: and proceeded to open the clenched hands, and disengage the coverings which were held as in a vice. “Ah!” said Mrs. Mills, “she’s not so unconscious as she looks. She resisted me then--only a little--but still she resisted. She’s coming round.” “How can it have happened?” Miss Hofland asked. She had got over her first fright and horror, and to talk over a patient, however alarming may be his or her state, is a temptation which nurses, when there are two of them, can rarely resist. They were full of human kindness and interest, and doing everything for her that could be done; but their very interest and anxiety found relief in this discussion of the case. “Who can tell? She had left her window open again. She never could be cured of that. Her mother must have some fad about open windows.” “Then you think some one must have come in?” “Some one? Who was there to come in? Something--perhaps one of the cattle or something--meaning no harm; or perhaps she only imagined it. Imagination is rather worse than fact.” “I said a cow,” said Miss Hofland thoughtfully. “It would be very strange finding a cow by your bedside in the middle of the night: it might be any sort of a monster: but, goodness! not to overwhelm a girl like that! I think she’s not quite so cold. I think she’s not quite so rigid. Hetty, wake up, my dear!” “Let her alone,” said the housekeeper. “She can’t hear you. If we get her circulation back, that will be the best chance.” “But how could it have happened?” repeated Miss Hofland, “for I don’t much believe in the cow. I can’t say I believe in the cow. Oh, how her poor eyes stare! Do you believe she doesn’t see, though she stares so? Hetty! oh, shake it off, darling, shake it off! If you will only make an effort!” “What is the use?” said Mrs. Mills. “She can’t hear you. If she could, it would be bad for her to be roused so. Young Darrell is very clever, they say; he’ll do all that can be done.” “He looked as if he knew what it was.”