So he pressed his lips on hers; and presently, in the midst of the great silence, Joan Haste’s last sobbing breath beat upon them in a sigh, and the agony was over.
Two hours later Henry arrived at Rosham, to find his mother and Mr. and Mrs. Milward waiting to receive him.
“My dear Henry, where have you been?” said Lady Graves. “It is twelve o’clock, and we were beginning to fear that something had gone wrong at Monk’s Lodge.”
“Or that you had met with another accident, dear,” put in Ellen. “But I haven’t given you a kiss yet, to welcome you home. Why, how pale you look! and what is the matter with your coat?”
“Where is Emma?” he asked, waving her back.
“She was so dreadfully tired, dear,” said Lady Graves, “that I insisted upon her going to bed. But has anything happened, Henry?”
“Yes, a great deal. Mr. Levinger is dead: he died in his sleep this evening.”
Lady Graves sank back shocked; and Ellen exclaimed, “How dreadfully sad! However, his health was very bad, poor man, so it is something of a release. Also, though you won’t care to think of such things now, there will be advantages for Emma——”
“Be silent, Ellen. I have something more to tell you. Joan Haste, or rather Joan Rock, is dead also.”
“Dead!” they both exclaimed.