"Make haste!" cried the Earl.
My lady opened her heavy eyes.
"Leave me alone," she whispered. "It is over."
The doctor took her arm and rolled back the loose blue sleeve. Honoria, watchful, quiet, held the basin and the linen.
"She is dying!" cried my lord hoarsely. For the first time he used her name. "Lavinia!"
She gave a great heaving breath, coughed, and sank sideways off the chair, her lips parted and her eyes turned up. The Earl caught her with an exclamation of horror. The Countess struggled a moment for breath, gave a sound like a laugh, and fell against my lord's breast.
"She is dead!" said the Earl.
Confusion and bewilderment fell on my lady's chambers; only Honoria Pryse was cool and unmoved. She gave one look at the face of the Countess as they carried her to the bed, then slipped away, picked up my lady's red cloak of last night, in the pocket of which still remained the casket of jewels she had provided for her flight, and quietly left the apartment.
"There is no hope," said the old doctor in a frightened voice. "She is dead or dying."