"So she is an orphan?" said the doctor. "Well, madam, follow my directions, and I trust all will be well, but above all keep the house quiet. I will not answer for consequences should the child be suddenly awakened." "Well, maidens, you have heard what the good doctor has said," said Lady Corbet. "Let me see how quiet you can be. I must say you have behaved well and shown yourselves sensible girls. But where is Paulina?" "Here, madam!" said Paulina, lifting her pale, tear-stained face from the chair on which it had been hidden; and then, throwing herself at her mother's feet, she exclaimed, in a suppressed voice: "It was all my fault, mother—all, all! Beat me if you will or turn me out of the house, for I deserve it all!" "Hush, hush, child! It is a good thing to own your fault, and I am glad to see it, but don't go into hysterics, and wake your poor sister. Phyllis, you can tell a straight story. Let me hear an account of the whole from you." There did not seem to be so very much to tell. The twins had been teasing Betty with rough play, while Paulina was reading as usual in her corner. Finally Betty fell over a footstool against Paulina, and knocked her book out of her hand. Betty cried out. "And then," concluded Phyllis, "Paulina shook her hard, and slapped her shoulders two or three times with the book, to make her stop screaming. Then when she would not stop, Paulina set her in the corner, and shook her again. Then I was frightened because Betty looked so bad, and I ran and called Mrs. Evans." "It is all true!" said Paulina, between her sobs. "I have killed the child! It was all my wicked temper because you sent me up-stairs. I have done all the mischief." Lady Corbet was amazed. It was the first time Paulina, had ever accused herself of a fault. She administered lectures and pardons all round, was certain they would never be so bad again, sent for some of the relics of the banquet to make them a feast, and, when it was plain that Paulina could not eat, made her a cup of tea (then a very uncommon luxury), and sent her to bed to sleep off her headache. CHAPTER XV. THE FEVER. ABOUT nine o'clock Lady Corbet came softly into the room where Betty had at last fallen into a quiet and sound slumber. "Poor little dear!" said she, sadly, as she looked at the pale face of the little sleeper. "She really breathes more gently, does she not? How lucky that the doctor happened to be in the house! But, sweetheart, you must go and got some supper and a breath of fresh air, for I am sure you need it. And, my dear, will you, as you come back, just step in and see if Pall is asleep? The poor child is all but broken-hearted. I could not be hard upon her when I saw how sorry she was for her fault, especially as it is so rare for her to own herself in the wrong."