“I am much happier now that I have seen you,” she said. A long-drawn sigh escaped her, and she added “Good-by.”
She rose to her feet, and Lady Elaine walked with her into the hall, the door of which was standing open, for the early autumn morning was warm and balmy.
There was a last farewell, and then the lovely, little, black figure was gone.
An inexpressible mournfulness seemed to be in the very air, and for a long time Elaine wandered from room to room, a strange feeling of unrest upon her. She could not forget the sorrowfulness of Theresa’s last good-by. It seemed to echo about her like a voice from the spirit world.
Late in the evening the little household was startled by an imperative knock, followed by a sharp ring at the doorbell.
The woman who did the duty of housekeeper obeyed the somewhat noisy summons, and a man handed her a sealed letter, saying:
“For Lady Seabright. Hurry up, ma’am; there’s an answer wanted!”
Nina received the letter from the housekeeper, and promptly conveyed it to her mistress.
This is what Elaine read:
Lady Elaine Seabright is requested by Sir Harold Annesley’s medical adviser to come to the Victoria Hotel at once if she wishes to see Harold alive. He has met with a street accident, and is fast sinking. His one desire is to see Lady Elaine before he dies. Her ladyship is advised to lose not an instant, but to accompany the bearer of this urgent appeal. A closed carriage has been sent for her exclusive use.