“Yes, but I was such a fool as to be terrified out of my senses by seeing you lie down on the sofa. I might have saved myself and you a great deal of trouble. I must have appeared ridiculously officious. I saw indeed that I was troublesome; and I seem to be too much for you now. I will leave you with Lady Littleton, to explain to her how the accident happened. Pray tell the thing just as it was--do not spare me, I beg. I do not desire that Lady Littleton, or any friend I have upon earth, should think better of me than I deserve. Remember, you have my free leave, Mlle. de Coulanges, to speak of me as you think--so don’t spare me!” cried Mrs. Somers, shutting the door with violence as she left the room. “Lean upon me, my dear,” said Lady Littleton, who saw that Emilie turned exceedingly pale, and looked towards a chair, as if she wished to reach it, but could not. “I thought,” said she, in a faint voice, “that this pain would go off, but it is grown more violent.” Emilie could say no more; she had borne intense pain as long as she was able: and now, quite overcome, she leaned back, and fainted. Lady Littleton threw open the window, sprinkled water upon Emilie’s face, and gave her assistance in the kindest manner, without calling any of the servants; she knew that the return of Mrs. Somers would do more harm than good. Emilie soon recovered her recollection; and, whilst Lady Littleton was rubbing the sprained ankle with ether, in hopes of lessening the pain, she asked how the accident had happened.--Emilie replied simply, that she had entangled her foot in Mrs. Somers’ gown. “I understand, from what Mrs. Somers hinted when she left the room,” said Lady Littleton, “that she was somehow in fault in this affair, and that you could blame her if you would; but I see that you will not; and I love you the better for justifying the good opinion that I had formed of you, Emilie.--But I will not talk sentiment to you now--you are in too much pain to relish it.” “Not at all,” said Emilie: “I feel more pleasure than pain at this moment; indeed my ankle does not hurt me now that I am quite still--the pleasant cold of the ether has relieved the pain. How kind you are to me, Lady Littleton, and how much I am obliged to you for judging so favourably of my character!” “You are not obliged to me, my dear, for I do you only justice.”