“That's her,--that's her! Oh, tell me everything you know,--tell me all you can think of her. She was the light of my eyes for many a year! Is the old lady sick?” cried he, suddenly; for Mrs. Ricketts had leaned back in her chair, and covered her face with her handkerchief. “She 's only overcome,” said Martha, as she threw back her own shawl and prepared for active service; while Scroope, in a burst of generous anxiety, seized the first decanter near him and filled out a bumper. “She and yonr da-daughter were like sisters,” whispered Scroope to Dalton. “The devil they were!” exclaimed Peter, who thought their looks must have belied the relationship. “Isn't she getting worse?--she's trembling all over her.” Mrs. Ricketts's state now warranted the most acute sympathy; for she threw her eyes wildly about, and seemed like one gasping for life. “Is she here, Martha? Is she near me----can I see her--can I touch her?” cried she, in accents almost heartrending. “Yes, yes; you shall see her; she 'll not leave you,” said Martha, as if caressing a child. “We must remove her; we must get her out of this.” “To be sure; yes, of course!” cried Dalton. “There's a room here empty. It's a tender heart she has, any way;” and, so saying, he arose, and with the aid of some half-dozen waiters transported the now unconscious Zoe, chair and all, into a small chamber adjoining the Saal. “This is her father's hand,” murmured Mrs. Ricketts, as she pressed Dalton's in her own,----“her father's hand.” “Yes, my dear!” said Dalton, returning the pressure, and feeling a strong desire to blubber, just for sociality's sake. “If you knew how they loved each other,” whispered Martha, while she busied herself pinning cap-ribbons out of the way of cold applications, and covering up lace from the damaging influence of restoratives. “It 's wonderful,--it's wonderful!” exclaimed Peter, whose faculties were actually confounded by such a rush of sensations and emotions. “Make him go back to his dinner, Martha; make him go back,” sighed the sick lady, in a half-dreamy voice. “I couldn't eat a bit; a morsel would choke me this minute,” said Dalton, who could n't bear to be outdone in the refinements of excited sensibility. “She must never be contradicted while in this state,” said Martha, confidingly. “All depends on indulgence.” “It's wonderful!” exclaimed Dalton, again,----“downright wonderful!” “Then, pray go back; she'll be quite well presently,” rejoined Martha, who already, from the contents of a reticule like a carpet-bag, had metamorphosed the fair Zoe's appearance into all the semblance of a patient. “It's wonderful; it beats Banagher!” muttered Peter, as he returned to the Saal, and resumed his place at the table. The company had already taken their departure, and except Purvis and the General, only a few stragglers remained behind. “Does she often get them?” asked Peter of Purvis. “Only when her fee-fee-feelings are worked upon; she's so se-sensitive!”