So little really intimate had been the Hall with the Rectory in the days of Wantley's childhood and boyhood, that there were many rooms of the vast eighteenth-century mansion which now belonged to him into which he had never been led as child and boy. And it was with a certain surprise that he became aware, when standing on its threshold, that Lady Wantley's bedroom was situated over the round Cedar Drawing-room, and so was of exactly the same proportions, though the general impression produced by the colouring and furnishing was amazingly other.
Long before they became the fashion, Lady Wantley had realized the beauty and the value of white backgrounds, and no touch of colour, save that provided by the fine old furniture, marred the delicate purity and severity of an apartment where, even as a young woman, she had spent much of her time when at Marston Lydiate.
In this moment of profound emotion and of fear, Wantley's mind and eyes yet took delight in the restful whiteness which from the very threshold seemed to envelop him.
The small bed, shrouded tent-wise with white curtains, concealed from him, but only for an instant, the sole occupant of the circular room; for suddenly he saw, sitting in a large armchair placed close to the fire, a strange shrunken figure, wrapped and swathed in black from head to foot. Even the white coif which had always formed part of Lady Wantley's costume since her widowhood had been put aside for a scarf of black silk, so arranged as to hide the upper part of the broad forehead, while accentuating the attenuation of the hollow cheeks, the sunken eyes, and the still delicately modelled nose and chin.
As he gazed, horror-struck, at the sinister-looking figure, by whose side, heaped up in confusion on a small table, lay numberless packets of letters, some yellow with the passage of time, others evidently written very lately, Wantley's repugnance became merged in great concern and pity.
'If your lordship will excuse me, I don't think I'll go up close to her,' Mrs. Moss whispered. 'Her ladyship don't seem to care to see me ever now,' and she slipped away, shutting the door softly behind her, and so leaving him alone with this strange and, it seemed to him, almost unreal presence.
Slowly he went up and stood before her, and as he murmured words of greeting, and regret that he found her so ailing, he took hold of the thin, fleshless right hand, to feel startled surprise at the strength of its burning grasp.
Looking down into the wan face, meeting the still penetrating grey eyes, Wantley saw with relief that, at this moment at any rate, she had full possession of her mind; for the despair he saw there was a sane despair, and one that told of sentient endurance.
'I see you have come alone,' she said at last in a low, clear, collected tone. 'You have not brought your wife? But I could not have expected you to do otherwise, knowing what you know.'
'Cecily is here. Of course she came with me,' he answered quickly. 'She is now lying down, the long journey tired her, and I felt sure you would like her to rest before seeing you.'