“Mrs. Gerome owes me nothing, and I came here reluctantly and in compliance with Robert Maclean’s request, to inform her of an accident which happened this afternoon while—”
He paused, awed by the change that swept over her countenance, filling it with horrible dread.
“Those gray horses?”
“Yes, madam.”
“Not Elsie? Oh! don’t tell me that my dear old Elsie was mangled! Hush! I will not hear it!”
Palette and brushes fell upon the carpet, and she wrung her fingers until the diamond-eyed asp set its blue fangs in her cold flesh.
“Robert was merely bruised, but his mother was very badly injured, and is still insensible. Every precaution has been taken to counteract the effect of the severe blow on her head, and I hope that after an hour or two she will recover her consciousness. Robert is bringing her home as carefully as possible, and you may expect them momentarily. Only his urgent entreaties that I would precede him and prepare you for the reception of his mother could have induced me to waive ceremony and thrust myself into the presence of a lady who seems little disposed to pardon the apparent presumption of my visit.”
She evidently did not heed his words, and, suddenly clasping her hands across her forehead, she said, bitterly,—
“Coward! why can’t you speak out, and tell me that the corpse will soon be here, and a coffin must be ordered? This is the last blow! Surely, God will let me alone, now; for there is nothing more that He can send to afflict me. Oh, Elsie,—my sole comfort! The only one who ever loved me!”