The frightened servants gathered round in a cluster, but nobody attempted to touch the poor lady, who lay rigid and helpless, hearing none of the comments that were freely made upon her, or the conjectures as to what Master had done or said that produced this state of things. Mistress she was, and these four or five woman, her servants, had lived in her house for months, but nobody loved her; nobody knew any thing about her; nobody thought of doing aught for her, till a kitchen-maid, probably out of former experience in some domestic emergency, suggested, "Fetch Elizabeth." The advice was eagerly caught at, every body being so thankful to have the responsibility shifted to some other body's shoulders; so in five minutes Elizabeth had the room cleared, and her mistress laid upon the bed, with nobody near except herself and the French maid. By-and-by Mrs. Ascott opened her eyes. "Who's that? What are you doing to me?" "Nothing, ma'am. It's only me--Elizabeth." At the familiar soothing voice the poor woman--a poor, wretched, forlorn woman she looked, lying there, in spite of all her grandeur--turned feebly round. "Oh, Elizabeth, I'm so ill! take care of me." And she fainted away once more. It was some time before she came quite to herself, and then the first thing she said was to bid Elizabeth bolt the door and keep every body out. "The doctor, ma'am if he comes?" "I'll not see him. I don't want him. I know what it is. I--" She pulled Elizabeth closer to her, whispered something in her ear, and then burst into a violent fit of hysterical weeping. Amazed, shocked, Elizabeth at first did not know what to do; then she took her mistress's head on her shoulder, and quieted her by degrees almost as she would a child. The sobbing ceased, and Mrs. Ascott lay still a minute, till suddenly she clutched Elizabeth's arm. "Mind you don't tell. He doesn't know, and he shall not; it would please him so. It does not please me. Sometimes I almost think I shall hate it because it is his child." She spoke with a fierceness that was hardly credible either in the dignified Mrs. Peter Ascott or the languid Miss Selina. To think of Miss Selina expecting a baby! The idea perfectly confounded poor Elizabeth. "I don't know very much about such matters," said she, deprecatingly; "but I'm sure, ma'am, you ought to keep yourself quiet, and I wouldn't hate the poor little baby if I were you. It may be a very nice little thing, and turn out a great comfort to you." Mrs. Ascott lifted her heavy eyes to the kindly, sympathetic, womanly face--thorough woman, for, as Elizabeth went on, her heart warmed with the strong instinct which comes almost of itself. "Think, to have a tiny little creature lying here beside you; something your very own, with its pretty face looking so innocent and sweet at you, and its pretty fingers touching you." Here Elizabeth's voice quite faltered over the picture she had drawn. "Oh, ma'am, I'm sure you would be so fond of it."