As he took her hand, Venetia opened her eyes, stared at
her mother and her attendant, and then immediately closed them.
'She has slept?' inquired Lady Annabel.
'No,' said the surgeon, 'no: this is not sleep; it is a feverish
trance that brings her no refreshment.' He took out his watch, and
marked her pulse with great attention; then he placed his hand on her
brow, and shook his head. 'These beautiful curls must come off,' he
said. Lady Annabel glided to the table, and instantly brought the
scissors, as if the delay of an instant might be fatal. The surgeon
cut off those long golden locks. Venetia raised her hand to her head,
and said, in a low voice, 'They are for my father.' Lady Annabel leant
upon the surgeon's arm and shook.
Now he led the mother to the window, and spoke in a hushed tone.
'Is it possible that there is anything on your daughter's mind, Lady
Annabel?' he inquired.
The agitated mother looked at the inquirer, and then at her daughter;
and then for a moment she raised her hand to her eyes; then she
replied, in a low but firm voice, 'Yes.'
'Your ladyship must judge whether you wish me to be acquainted with
it,' said Mr. Hawkins, calmly.
'My daughter has suddenly become acquainted, sir, with some family
incidents of a painful nature, and the knowledge of which I have
hitherto spared her.
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