What is the matter?' I said--'George, dear, what is the matter?' For his face had grown quite white, and with his back against the wall, he was staring about him wildly 'I don't know--Helen--something'--he ejaculated in a low tone; then recovering himself, with a laugh, he cried--'I struck myself against the door, I suppose! I declare one would think I was composed of old china, or wax, or sugar candy, it hurt and stunned me so! Come, dearest.'