The Purple Fern by Fergus Hume — Read

Mrs. Rebson, being a woman, and fond of gossip, had her fair share of curiosity. Also she was anxious to hear what Clarice had been doing in London, and to know exactly how she had saved Ferdy, although Mrs. Rebson had a very vague idea of what Ferdy was to be saved from. That her darling had anything to do with the crime never entered her foolish old head. However, her impatience would not permit her to stay downstairs longer than an hour, so she went back to the room of her young mistress as soon as she could.

Clarice was not within, and Mrs. Rebson was puzzled. She hunted through the other rooms on the same floor, and at length came to Ferdy's apartment. Here she found the room in disorder, and Clarice lying on the carpet in a dead faint. Considerably alarmed, Mrs. Rebson got water and vinegar and sal volatile, and all such-like aids to insensible people. Shortly Clarice revived and sat up with a dazed look. But as soon as a memory of what she had found came back to her with a rush, she struggled to her feet, and crushed up the scrap of shaving-paper upon which she had impressed the fern. The stamp itself she had held closely in her left hand all the time she was insensible, so she did not think that her dim-eyed old nurse had seen anything. More than that, Mrs. Rebson ascribed to the London trip this unexampled behaviour on the part of the girl. Never before had strong-minded Clarice Baird lost her senses.