“Lady Alden of Aldenmere has been drowned in the river Lee, that part called the Pool, in Holme Woods.”
In the meantime they had carried the body of the hapless lady to her own chamber; the weeping, terrified servants filled the room, and Mrs. Glynn, the housekeeper, armed with authority, sent them all away except Mary Thorne. They laid her on the sumptuous bed, with its pink silk and white lace hangings; they wrung the water from her long, fair hair, and then there came the sound of an arrival.
“All the doctors on earth could not help her, poor lady,” said Mrs. Glynn, with a long-drawn sigh. But the doctors came in and tried their best.
“Stone dead—she has been dead over two hours,” said Dr. Mayne. “How did it happen?”
Before there was time for a reply the door opened again, and Sir Ronald Alden, the lady’s husband, master of Aldenmere, entered.
He walked quickly up to the bedside and his eyes fell upon the silent figure lying there. The ghastly fear in his face deepened as he gazed.
“What is it?” he said, clutching Dr. Mayne’s arm. “What has happened—what is this?”
“You must bear it bravely, Sir Ronald,” said the doctor, pityingly. “Lady Alden has met with a terrible accident.”
He bent over her with trembling hands and wild, desperate horror in his face.
“She is dead?” he cried.