(_Annie enters_.)
_Annie_. Helen! Why, Helen, are you asleep there? Come, we are going
now. After keeping us on tiptoe for hours, the summons has come at last.
Indeed, there is hardly time for you to dress. Shall I help you?
_Helen_. (_Rising slowly_.) God help me. Bid my mother come here, Annie.
_Annie_. What ails you, Helen?--there is no time,--you do not understand
me,--there is not one moment to be lost. Let me wind up this hair for you.
_Helen_. Let go!--Oh God----
_Annie_. Helen Grey!
_Helen_. It was a dream,--it was but a foolish dream. It must not be
thought of now,--it will never do. Bid my mother come here, I am ready
now.
_Annie_. Ready, Helen!--ready?--in that dressing-gown, and your
hair--see here,--are you ready, Helen?
_Helen_. Yes,--bid her come.
_Annie_. Heaven only knows what you mean with this wild talk of yours,
but if you are not mad indeed, I intreat you, sister, waste no more of
this precious time.
_Helen_. No, no,--we must not indeed. It was wrong, but I could
not--go,--make haste, bid her come.
_Annie_. She is crazed, certainly!
[_Goes out_.
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