When Lilith left the presence of her husband on that fatal night of their parting, her mind and heart were in a whirl of confusion and suffering.
He had accused her of unspeakable, of incomprehensible evil! He had repudiated her! He had told her that in a few hours he should leave that house—his patrimonial home—never to return to it while she should “desecrate it by her presence.”
Her love was wounded to the quick! Her pride was trampled in the dust.
What remained for her to do?
First of all to leave the house which he declared that she “desecrated with her presence.”
Yes, that was the first and the most urgent duty that she owed to him who had repudiated her and to herself, and her own honor and self-respect as well.
It was good to know what first to do. It saved useless brooding and loss of time.
As soon as she reached her room, therefore, she locked the door to secure herself from interruption, and then she began to prepare for her departure.
For she determined to go at once and to take with her nothing, no, not the smallest trifle, that Hereward had ever given her.
So she took off the deep mourning dress that had been one of Hereward’s first gifts, hung it up in the wardrobe, and replaced it with a crimson cashmere, the gift of his father, which since Major Hereward’s death had been packed away with other clothing, left off when she first went into black.