Dalton stooped low and kissed her on the forehead and as he straightened himself he saw that she was dead.
When Honor arrived in the verandah and heard the story of the tragedy, her heart bounded with a very human relief at the thought that a most precious life had been spared. For a moment she had room for no other thought in her mind. "Thank God, Brian is safe!" she cried to her soul.
Afterwards she could afford to dwell on the miracle of Mrs. Dalton's sacrifice. Who would have thought her capable of such an act of heroism? Truly, one never knows how much of good there is in human nature, howsoever perverted! Poor Mrs. Dalton! She had, indeed, atoned. She had given her all—her very life for the man she had wronged, and whose pride she had lowered in the dust. It was a magnificent act, the memory of which would wipe out every wrong she had done, and silence every tongue that spoke ill of her.
"Is she still living?" Honor asked one of the servants, fearfully.
"She died but a moment ago," said the bearer, "for the Sahib has retired into another room and all is silent."
Elsewhere, too, all was still. In the presence of death, voices were hushed, as the servants hung about waiting for the coming of those who had been called.
"It is a terrible sight," Honor heard one say to another; "the body of that punkha coolie lying just where he fell. Some domes[22] must be fetched to remove him."
"The Sahib says, let no one lay a hand on him till the police arrive; such is the custom when an inquiry has to beheld."
Seeing that her presence was unnecessary, Honor passed out into the darkness and ran swiftly home.