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They carried Lady Maulevrier to her bed and laid her there, like a
figure carved out of stone. She was not unconscious. Her eyes were
open, and she moaned every now and then as if in bodily or mental pain.
Once she tried to speak, but had no power to shape a syllable aright,
and ended with a shuddering sigh. Once she lifted her left arm and waved
it in the air, as if waving some one off in fear or anger. The right
arm, indeed the whole of the right side, was lifeless, motionless as a
stone. It was a piteous sight to see the beautiful features drawn and
distorted, the lips so accustomed to command mouthing the broken
syllables of an unknown tongue. Lady Mary sat beside the bed with
clasped hands, praying dumbly, with her eyes fixed on her grandmother's
altered face.
Mr. Horton came, as soon as his stout mountain pony could bring him. He
did not seem surprised at her ladyship's condition, and accepted the
situation with professional calmness.
'A marked case of hemiplegia,' he said, when he had observed the
symptoms.
'Will she die?' asked Mary.


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