"Everything I have I've given to you," she said once, and later on sent a farewell message to Sir Ross. Melville she did not mention any more; she had kept her promise and that sufficed. So she lay, waiting for the end, with an expression on her face in which fear had no part. Warm-hearted and impulsive, no one could ever tell how much she may have repented the part she played in spoiling Sir Geoffrey's life by her early desertion of him. From that point onwards, however, within the limitations of her rather crude nature, she had always been kind, straightforward, and true, and death found her not afraid. Of many a better woman not so much can be said.
Lucille knelt by her, gently stroking her hair, grudging every second as it sped. A faint smile flickered over Lavender's face, just lightening the gravity that was settling on it, and for the last time the lips that had never spoken an unkind word parted. Lucille bent her head nearer and caught the whisper.
"Good-bye—dear."
CHAPTER XXVI.
FATE TAKES THE ODD TRICK.
Melville was on the point of leaving his rooms, his Inverness cape hanging on his arm, when Jervis came into the room.
"A commissionaire, sir, has come and wants to see you."
"All right," said Melville casually; "send him up."
The man appeared and gave his message tersely; he was often sent on errands such as this, but still was no adept in the art of breaking bad news.
"There has been an accident, sir, and you are wanted at once."