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Poynter, Eleanor Frances

"My Little Lady"



Madelon was left alone to feel giddy, helpless, bewildered in
the reaction from strong excitement and passion. She was quite
tired and worn-out, too, with her long watching and waiting;
too weary to cry even, or to think over all that had happened.
She did not go to bed, however; that would have been the last
thing she would have thought of doing; for, Graham's last
words notwithstanding, she had a notion that in a few minutes
she would be called to come and watch by her father, as she
had often done in the old days at Florence; so she only put
down her candle on the table, and curled herself up in a big
arm-chair; and in five minutes, in spite of her resolution to
keep wide awake till she should be summoned, she was sound
asleep.
Low voices were consulting together in the next room, people
coming in and out; the French doctor who had been sent for
arriving; cautious footsteps, and soft movements about the
injured man. But Madelon heard none of them, she slept soundly
on, and only awoke at last to see her candle go out with a
splutter, and the grey light of dawn creeping chilly into the
room.


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