So Bernardine reached her own door. She heard her name called, and, turning round, saw Mrs. Reffold. There was a scared look on the beautiful face.
"Miss Holme," she said, "I have been sent for—I daren't go to him alone—I want you—he is worse. I am" . . . .
Bernardine took her hand, and the two women hurried away in silence.
CHAPTER XVI.
WHEN THE SOUL KNOWS ITS OWN REMORSE.
BERNARDINE had seen Mr. Reffold the previous day. She had sat by his side and held his hand. He had smiled at her many times, but he only spoke once.
"Little Brick," he whispered—for his voice had become nothing but a whisper. "I remember all you told me. God bless you. But what a long time it does take to die."
But that was yesterday.
The lane had come to an ending at last, and Mr. Reffold lay dead.
They bore him to the little mortuary chapel. And Bernardine stayed with Mrs. Reffold, who seemed afraid to be alone. She clung to Bernardine's hand.