"Don't be alarmed! It is but a fainting-fit," said Mrs. Thorpe, catching her in her arms, laying her back in her chair and applying to her nose a smelling-bottle, which she took from her pocket—all in the space of an instant. "Run one of you, and bring some wine or strong waters, and call one of the ladies—you, my dear, open the window and help me to loosen her dress." As we unloosed her girdle and opened her dress, I saw that she wore a sharp cross on her bosom and that her undergarment was of the roughest woolen, which must have been very irritating and distressing in hot weather. I glanced at Mrs. Thorpe, and saw a look of anger and disgust on her honest face. "Poor thing, poor thing!" she muttered. "As if she could not trust the Lord to send her all the trouble she needed, without making more for herself; they must needs be wise, above what is written—there, don't cry, my dear, she is coming to herself. See, her lips are getting quite a color, poor lady." Mother Prudentia now appeared, and with her help, Mother Superior was so far revived as to be moved to her bed. Father Brousseau had come home by that time, and was at once called in to see her. "It is the beginning of the end!" said he, as he came out of the room. "We shall hear the cry at midnight. Behold the Bridegroom cometh; let all be in readiness to receive Him." We had our usual recreation after supper, but no one cared for the merriment which generally took place at that hour. The sisters walked up and down in threes and fours—it was against our rules for two to walk together—weeping and talking or entering the little Lady chapel, which stood in the grounds, to say a prayer before the altar, where was an image of the Virgin which had worked miracles in its time. This little chapel had been entirely forgotten at the time of the robbery, and had been also overlooked and left untouched by the robbers; a circumstance which was considered a miracle in itself, and brought the image into greater favor than ever. And by the way, if the worship is paid not to the image, but to the person whom it represents, I wonder why some images of the Virgin are so much more sought after than others. We walked in the garden with Mrs. Thorpe, showed her different places about the house, and told her the story of the midnight assault. "And what will be done with the robbers!" said she. "None of them have been taken!" I answered. "They say the whole thing will be hushed up, because a noble family is mixed up in it. And we think—Amabel and I do," I added in a whisper; "that it was the young Count who was drowned in the vaults; we heard him talking when he was here before with his uncle, and he had such a curious hoarse voice. I am sure it was the same."