"Oh!" cried Julie, as though she had been struck, and hid her eyes with her hand.
Slowly, laboriously, Lady Henry dragged herself from step to step. As she turned the corner of the staircase, and could therefore be no longer seen from below, some one softly opened the door of the dining-room and entered the hall.
Julie looked round her, startled. She saw Jacob Delafield, who put his finger to his lip.
Moved by a sudden impulse, she bowed her head on the banister of the stairs against which she was leaning and broke into stifled sobs.
Jacob Delafield came up to her and took her hand. She felt his own tremble, and yet its grasp was firm and supporting.
"Courage!" he said, bending over her. "Try not to give way. You will want all your fortitude."
"Listen!" She gasped, trying vainly to control herself, and they both listened to the sounds above them in the dark house--the labored breath, the slow, painful step.
"Oh, she wouldn't let me help her. She said she would rather die. Perhaps I have killed her. And I could--I could--yes, I could have loved her."
She was in an anguish of feeling--of sharp and penetrating remorse.
Jacob Delafield held her hand close in his, and when at last the sounds had died in the distance he lifted it to his lips.