"Good God!" says Sir John.
"I wonder," says Mr. Hadley—"I wonder if we've come to take the breeks off a Highlander?"
"What's your will?" Sir John gasped.
"I wonder if my lady knows all we can tell her. It might have made her hypochondriac."
"Hip who? Odso, I am hipped myself."
My lady came. She had so much flowing drapery about her that she seemed all robes. She moved very slowly, she was bowed, and she leaned upon the shoulder of Arabella. With care she deposited herself in the big chair. Arabella arranged her draperies, arranged the cushion, and stood aside. My lady lay back, put back the lace about her head, and showed them her large pale face and sighed. "You are welcome, gentlemen," said she. "You are vastly kind."
"Odso, ma'am, what's the matter?" Sir John cried.
"Why, have you not heard? Arabella, he has not heard!" My lady was convulsed, and clutched at the maid, who comforted her with a scent-bottle. "He has gone!" she sighed. "He has gone."
"What the devil! Who the devil?"
My lady recovered herself. From somewhere in her voluminous folds she produced a letter. "If it would please you, be patient with me. My unhappy eyes." She dabbed at them with a handful of lace, and read: