She turned her eyes on him in terror.
"You think," she whispered, "that I shall die soon—soon!"
He did not answer her. He could not. She wrung her hands and dashed them open upon the bed, panting.
"Oh," she cried, "my God! It is over! I have come to the end of it—the end! To have only one life—and to have done with it—and lie here! To have lived—and loved—and triumphed, and to know it is over! One may defy all the rest, the whole world, but not this. It is done!"
Then she turned to him again, desperately.
"Go to your mother," she said. "Tell her to come. I want some one in the room with me. I wont be left alone with her. I cannot bear it."
On going out he found the girl sitting at the head of the stairs. She rose and stood aside to let him pass, looking at him unflinchingly.
"Are you coming back?" she demanded.
"Yes," he answered, "I am coming back."
In half an hour he re-ascended the staircase, bringing his mother with him. When they entered the room in which the dying woman lay, Mrs. Murdoch went to the bed and bent over her.