Companioned by these thoughts for an hour she sat, still and stricken. When she aroused herself it seemed as though before her two figures stood. One said "I am Duty," the other, "I am Grief."
A message from the latter she imparted to Mrs. Price. Many messages not similar but cognate that lady received. Fanny had been very popular. Her popularity the rumor connecting her with Loftus had necessarily impaired. The arrest of her husband for shooting the man, and for shooting him, as it was generally understood, on her account, impaired it still more. In the upper circles the scandalous may be relished, but it is not indorsed. Had Fanny lived, those circles would have visited their displeasure in not visiting her at all. But death is a peacemaker. It comes and where there was war is a truce. By the worldly Fanny was immediately forgiven and by them as quickly forgot.
It was in July that she died. In September Sylvia returned to town. At once she asked Orr to arrange for her a visit to Annandale in the Tombs.
To that he objected. "You know," he said, "that you will have to testify against him."
"Against him!" Sylvia repeated with an air of utter surprise.
"Why, yes. He was here that night. He has admitted it. You will be asked to tell what he said."
In Sylvia's eyes both disdain and acquiescence surged. "And what of it?"
"But," Orr exclaimed, "there is the threat. He made it in the presence of Harris and repeated it in yours."
"He did nothing of the kind."
"But you told me so."