"No," said Lorimer softly; "not in that house, but the old studio in Elm Avenue."
"Where? what did you say?" exclaimed Dora.
"Philip has left the house you hate so, because of its cruel souvenirs. He has gone back to St. John's Wood, where you spent the first six years of your married life, and, in order never to be turned out of that house, he has bought it."
"But the house is inhabited," said Dora.
"I know it."
"Why, then—it must be Philip" ...
"Who occupies it," said Lorimer; "he is only waiting for your presence, dear Dora, before beginning to work again. He will devote the rest of his life to painting in the old studio. It is his irrevocable resolution."
A ray of ineffable joy spread over Dora's face; but the shock had been too violent and too sudden. She was not strong enough to bear such emotion as the news had caused her. Repeating over Lorimer's phrase, "It is he who occupies the house! Oh, my dear old studio!" she fell fainting into his arms, and he called Hobbs to come quickly to her mistress's aid. After a few moments her eyes opened, she smiled at Lorimer, and he took her hands and kissed them.
It was five o'clock. Dr. Templeton arrived, and had Dora led to her bedroom, with a recommendation to rest quietly on the bed a while.
"It is only a little weakness," said he; "her pulse is almost normal. This sort of thing is often caused by sudden emotion. It will soon be over, but I will stay near her for the present."