And then in that high piercingly sweet voice of hers, she began in its Welsh version the hymn which had heralded her spiritual mission:
'Just as I am, without one plea;
Save that Thy blood was shed for me'
She paused, arrested by a little soft cough. Then with a strange look in her wide wistful eyes she sank to her knees and stretched out her hands blindly, "Merve--Merve--fach--Merve anwl y----" The rest was lost in the gurgle of the blood which poured from her mouth.
Aura was beside her in a moment. "Don't raise her--her head on my knee so--Call Martha--you, man--don't stand gaping--And you, woman, unfasten her dress--that is better."
It seemed an interminable time, though Martha was already up and dressed, ere Aura saw her running from the back; and all that time, the stain on Aura's white dress grew larger and larger.
"Lord sakes," muttered Martha. "A blood vessel! This comes of making free and she not fit--Parkinson"--for the parlour-maid had followed--"you run for your turpentine, without the bees'-wax, there's a dear--you sit as you be Miss H'Aura, and you there, what's your name, them icicles. We must stop it--if we can."
There was an ominous ring in the last words, and it was not long ere Aura's face blanched almost as white as the one upon her lap, as she realized that if the life blood was slacking, it was because the tide of life itself was ebbing.
This was death. She had never stood close to it before. Her young eyes looked fearfully through the hush of life to the unknown.
So the minutes sped. Alicia Edwards gave a sigh of satisfaction, for the bleeding had ceased, but Aura, feeling the faint death tremor which re-unites the vibration of life to the vibration of the star-shine, looked up, her fear gone in grave wonder.
"I think," she said softly, "she is dead."