"They must have gone crazy, simply crazy!" said Madeleine, making quick, excited gestures. "Mrs. Sandworth, of course--a person can hardly blame her for anything! She's a cipher with the rim off when the doctor has made up his mind. But, even so, shouldn't you think in common decency she'd have let us know what they were up to in time to prevent it? _I_ never heard a word of this sickening business of Ariadne's adoption till day before yesterday. Did _you_?" she ended half-suspiciously. Mrs. Mortimer stopped her restless pace up and down the old-fashioned, high-ceilinged room, and made a gesture for silence. "I thought I heard something--up there," she explained, motioning to the upper part of the house. "I wonder what made Lydia so sure beforehand that she wouldn't live through this?" "Well, I guess from what the nurse told me there _isn't_ much chance for her," said Madeleine in a hard voice. Her color was not so high as usual, her beautiful face looked grim, and she spoke in a bitter tone of seriousness that made her seem quite another person. Marietta's thin, dark countenance gave less indication of her mood, whatever it was. She looked sallow and worn, and only her black eyes, hot and gloomy, showed emotion. Both women were silent a moment, listening to the sound of footsteps overhead. "It seems as though it _must_ be over soon now!" cried the childless one of the two, drawing in her breath sharply. "It makes me furious to think of women suffering so. Bertha Williamson was telling me the other day about when her little Walter was born--it made me _sick_!" The matron looked at her and shivered a little, but made no response. "The nurse says Lydia is mostly unconscious now. Perhaps the worst is over for her! Poor Lyd! What do you suppose made her act so?" went on Madeleine, moving about restlessly, her voice uncertain. She went to the window, and drew aside the shade to look out into the blackness. "Oh, I wish the men would come! What time is it, do you suppose? Yes, I see; half-past three. Oh, it _must_ be over soon! I wish they'd come! You telegraphed George, didn't you? Heavens! how it rains!" "He was to come on the midnight train. Is your husband--" "Oh, he was horrid about it--wanted me to do it all myself. He's in the midst of some big deal or other. But I told him he'd _have_ to come and help out, or I'd--I'd _kill_ him! He'll bring the lawyer." "Where do you suppose?" began Marietta, looking over her shoulder. "Out in his shanty in the Black Rock woods," said Madeleine harshly, "with no idea of what's going on. Just before you came, the doctor sent out for a messenger to take him word, and you'd better believe I got hold of that messenger!" "Of course that'll make things easier," said Marietta. "Oh, it won't be hard at all," Madeleine assured her; "the lawyer'll be right at hand; it'll be over in a minute."