'
'It is very awful, Julia. Don't give way.'
'Tell me what it is. Is she dead?
'Yes; she is dead.' Julia got up from her husband's knees and stood by the
mantelpiece, leaning upon it. 'It is more than mere death.'
'What do you mean? She killed herself--is that it?'
'Yes; she drowned herself the night before last in the lake.'
'Oh, it is too horrible! Then we have murdered her. Our unpardonable
selfishness! I cannot bear it!' Her eyes closed and her lips trembled.
Hubert caught her in his arms, laid her on the chair, and, fetching some
water in a tumbler, sprinkled her face; then he held it to her lips; she
drank a little, and revived. 'I'm not going to faint. Tell me--tell me when
the unfortunate child----'
'They don't know exactly. She was in the drawing-room at tea-time, and the
drawing-room was empty when Black went round three-quarters of an hour
after to lock up. He thought she had gone to her room. It was the gardener
who brought in the news in the morning about nine.'
'Oh, good God!'
'Black says he noticed that she looked very depressed the day before, but
he thought she was looking better when he brought in the tea.'
'It was then she got my letter. Does Black say anything about giving her a
letter?'
'Yes, that is to say----'
'I knew it! I knew it!' said Julia; and her eyes were wild with grief, and
she rocked herself to and fro.
Pages:
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251