Her niece Evelyn Simson notes how they heard of the arrival:—
‘A wire came on Friday from Aunt Elsie, saying they had arrived in Newcastle. We tried all Saturday to get news by wire and ’phone, but got none. We think now this was because the first news came by wireless, and they did not land till Sunday.
‘Aunt Elsie answered our prepaid wire, simply saying, “I am in bed, do not telephone for a few days.” I was free to start off by the night train, and arrived about 2 A.M. at Newcastle. I found the S.W.H. were at the Station Hotel, and I saw Aunt Elsie’s name in the book. I did not like to disturb her at that hour, and went to my room till 7.30. I found her alone; the night nurse was next door. She was surprised to see me, as she thought it would be noon before any one could arrive. She looked terribly wasted, but she gave me such a strong embrace that I never thought the illness was more than what might easily be cured on land, with suitable diet.
‘I felt her pulse, and she said. “It is not very good, Eve dear, I know, for I have a pulse that beats in my head, and I know it has been dropping beats all night.” She wanted to know all about every one, and we had a long talk before any one came in. She told me how good Dr. Ward had been to her, always, and we arranged that Dr. Ethel Williams should come. Aunt Elsie then packed me off to get some breakfast, and Dr. Ward told me she was much worse than she had been the night before.
‘I telephoned to Edinburgh saying she was “very ill.” When Dr. Williams came, I learnt that there was practically no hope of her living. They started injections and oxygen, and Aunt Elsie said, “Now don’t think we didn’t think of all these things before, but on board ship nothing was possible.”
‘It was not till Dr. Williams’ second visit that she asked me if the doctor thought “this was the end.” When she saw that it was so, she at once said, without pause or hesitation, “Eve, it will be grand starting a new job over there,”—then, with a smile, “although there are two or three jobs here I would like to have finished.” After this her whole mind seemed taken up with the sending of last messages to her committees, units, friends, and relations. It simply amazed me how she remembered every one down to her grand-nieces and nephews. When I knew mother and Aunt Eva were on their way, I told her, and she was overjoyed. Early in the morning she told me wonderful things about bringing back the Serbs. I found it very hard to follow, as it was an unknown story to me. I clearly remember she went one day to the Consul in Odessa, and said she must wire certain things. She was told she could only wire straight to the War Office—“and so I got into touch straight with the War Office.”
‘Mrs. M‘Laren at one moment commented—“You have done magnificent work.” Back swiftly came her answer, “Not I, but my unit.”
‘Mrs. M‘Laren says: ‘Mrs. Simson and I arrived at Newcastle on Monday evening. It was a glorious experience to be with her those last two hours. She was emaciated almost beyond recognition, but all sense of her bodily weakness was lost in the grip one felt of the strong alert spirit, which dominated every one in the room. She was clear in her mind, and most loving to the end. The words she greeted us with were—“So, I am going over to the other side.” When she saw we could not believe it, she said, with a smile, “For a long time I meant to live, but now I know I am going.” She spoke naturally and expectantly of going over. Certainly she met the unknown with a cheer! As the minutes passed she seemed to be entering into some great experience, for she kept repeating, “This is wonderful—but this is wonderful.” Then, she would notice that some one of us was standing, and she would order us to sit down—another chair must be brought if there were not enough. To the end, she would revert to small details for our comfort. As flesh and heart failed, she seemed to be breasting some difficulty, and in her own strong way, without distress or fear, she asked for help, “You must all of you help me through this.” We repeated to her many words of comfort. Again and again she answered back, “I know.” One, standing at the foot of the bed, said to her, “You will give my love to father”; instantly the humorous smile lit her face, and she answered, “Of course I will.”
‘At her own request her sister read to her words of the life beyond—“Let not your heart be troubled—In my Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so I would have told you,” and, even as they watched her, she fell on sleep.
‘After she had left us, there remained with those that loved her only a great sense of triumph and perfect peace. The room seemed full of a glorious presence. One of us said, “This is not death; it makes one wish to follow after.”’
As ‘We’ waited those anxious weeks for the news of the arrival of Dr. Inglis and her Army, there were questionings, how we should welcome and show her all love and service. The news quickly spread she was not well—might be delayed in reaching London; the manner of greeting her must be to ensure rest.
The storm had spent itself, and the moon was riding high in a cloudless heaven, when others waiting in Edinburgh on the 26th learnt the news that she too had passed through the storm and shadows, and had crossed the bar.
That her work here was to end with her life had not entered the minds of those who watched for her return, overjoyed to think of seeing her face once more. She had concealed her mortal weakness so completely, that even to her own the first note of warning had come with the words that she had landed, but was in bed:—‘then we thought it was time one of us should go to her.’
Her people brought her back to the city of her fathers, and to the hearts who had sent her forth, and carried her on the wings of their strong confidence. There was to be no more going forth of her active feet in the service of man, and all that was mortal was carried for the last time into the church she had loved so well. Then we knew and understood that she had been called where His servants shall serve Him.
The Madonna lilies, the lilies of France and of the fields, were placed around her. Over her hung the torn banners of Scotland’s history. The Scottish women had wrapped their country’s flag around them in one of their hard-pressed flights. On her coffin, as she lay looking to the East in high St. Giles’, were placed the flags of Great Britain and Serbia.
She had worn ‘the faded ribbons’ of the orders bestowed on her by France, Russia, and Serbia. It has often been asked at home and abroad why she had received no decorations at the hands of her Sovereign. It is not an easy question to answer.
On November the 29th, Dr. Inglis was buried, amid marks of respect and recognition which make that passing stand alone in the history of the last rites of any of her fellow-citizens. Great was the company gathered within the church. The chancel was filled by her family and relatives—her Suffrage colleagues, representatives from all the societies, the officials of the hospitals and hostels she had founded at home, the units whom she had led and by whose aid she had done great things abroad. Last and first of all true-hearted mourners the people of Serbia represented by their Minister and members of the Legation. The chief of the Scottish Command was present, and by his orders military honours were paid to this happy warrior of the Red Cross.