Patience suddenly turned from the thoughts of the hereafter in shuddering horror. Then, as now, she should be alone. Perhaps it would be as well, if she were to look like that shape. . . . But she should know soon enough!
Whimsies deserted her as abruptly as they had come. She realised with terrible vividness all that she was leaving, the sweetness of it, the beauty of it—and the awful part allotted to the man.
She had imagined that in her last night on earth—if it came to that—her mind would dwell on the great problems of life; but she cried herself to sleep.
XXIV
Bourke and the priest arrived in Albany at two minutes past eight in the morning. A hack carried them to the governor’s house in less than ten minutes.
Bourke’s ring was answered immediately. He had his card ready, also that of the priest.
“Take these to the governor,” he said to the butler. “We must see him at once.”
“The governor took the 8.13 express for New York.”
Bourke uttered an oath which the priest did not rebuke.
“Did he leave an answer to a telegram he received between two and five this morning?”