* * * * *
It was late on the following morning when Miss Brewer entered Paulina's room, and having softly opened the shutters, drew near the bed with a noiseless step. The bed-clothes, which were wont to be tossed and tumbled by the restless sleeper, were smooth and undisturbed. Never had Miss Brewer seen her mistress in an attitude so expressive of complete repose.
"Poor thing! she has had a good night after all," thought the companion.
She bent over the quiet figure, the pale face, so statuesque in that calm sleep, and gently touched the white, listless hand.
Yes—this indeed was perfect repose; but it was the repose of death. The bottle from which Paulina had habitually taken a daily modicum of opium, lay on the ground by the bedside, empty.
Whether the luckless, hopeless, heart-broken woman, overwhelmed by the sense of an inscrutable Fate that forbade her every chance of peace or happiness, had, in her supreme despair, committed the sin of the suicide, who shall say? It is possible that she had only taken an over-dose of the perilous compound unconsciously, in the dull apathy of her despair.
She was dead. Life for her had been one long humiliation, one long struggle. And at last, when the cup of happiness had been offered to her lips, a cruel hand had snatched it away from her.
* * * * *
When Miss Brewer recovered her senses and her power of action, she sent for Douglas Dale. News of the awful event had got abroad by that time, through the terrified servants; and two doctors and a policeman were on the premises. A messenger was easily procured, who tore off in a hansom to the Temple. As the man ran up the steps leading to Dr. Johnson's Buildings, where Dale's new chambers were situated, he encountered two ladies on the first landing.
"I beg your pardon," he said, pushing them, however, very decidedly aside as he spoke, "I must see Mr. Dale; please do not detain him. It is most important." The ladies stood aside exchanging frightened and curious looks, but made no attempt to make their presence known to Mr. Dale, who came out of his rooms in a few minutes, attended by the messenger, and passed them without seeming in the least aware of their presence, and wearing the ghastliest face that ever was seen on mortal man. That face struck them dumb and motionless, and it was not until Jarvis had twice asked them their names and business, that the elder lady replied. "They would call again," she told him, and handed him cards bearing the names of "Lady Verner," "Lady Eversleigh."