"Thank God!" she said. And then, in a bewildered way, she thought for a moment, and cried out, "He is not dead! He is not dead! That is your news--your dreadful news!"
"No, my darling, no," said Mr. Baldwin, coming to her side. "It is not so bad as that. Thank God, your fears are so far beyond the truth. He is dead. We are not parted. No, no."
"No, no," continued Meredith, still holding her; "it is not so bad as that. Hungerford is dead; I saw his body, and I gave it decent burial; but he did not die until long after the time when you believed him dead."
"When did he die?" she asked. The relief was immense; but if the news she was to hear was only that, it was rather good than bad. "When did he die?"
Meredith hesitated. Baldwin turned away.
"Tell me," she insisted.
"He died only a short time ago," said Meredith slowly. "He died only a few days before I left Melbourne."
She was still standing, upheld by his arm, but she lost consciousness for a little as she stood. He placed her gently in a chair, and they kept aloof from her, until her eyes opened, and she drew a long breath. Then she lifted her hand to her forehead, and slowly pushed the hair away from it.
"You are better now?" said James.
"I am quite well," she said. "Let me understand this. I don't quite take it in."