"I must go, I must go!" she says in her heart. "Dying! Oh, my love, my love! Are you leaving me thus? Will God not have pity on you?"
Mechanically, like one in a dream, she moves away; she scarcely knows whither she is going. Only that one impulse is in her mind—to fly to Keith's side at last; to bid him farewell on earth as never had she thought to bid it; to kiss for the last time those eyes that she seemed to see before her even now—tender, triumphant, agonized, beseeching, as had been his words!
As her hand is on the door a faint sound reaches her ears, and pierces through the mists that cloud her brain as though its feeble utterance were a trumpet's blast. It is her husband's voice.
"Lauraine," he sighs, and moves restlessly in his sleep. She stands there like one stunned. "Oh, God!" she murmurs within herself, "my promise!"
Alone in her own room Lauraine sits in a sort of stupor, merciful in its dull pain, since it renders all thought powerless for the time being.
Her husband has need of her. She has promised to stay with him, and she must keep her word. No past sins or errors of his should be the measure of her duty, so she had felt; and now her word is given, and Keith's dying eyes seem to summon her across the weary distance that separates them, and she dares not go.
It is but a few moments since she has left her husband's side, but the Sister comes to her now to entreat her to return. Sir Francis is asking for her. She rises mechanically, and goes back to the sick-room. The gaunt face, the eager eyes are turned towards the door.
"You promised not to leave me," he whispers, faintly, and Lauraine cannot find it in her heart to tell him that she needs rest, that she is worn and spent with long hours of anxiety and suspense.
"Come here—sit down—so—close to me," he continues brokenly. "Tell her to go. I must speak to you alone." Lauraine turns and makes a sign to the Sister. She leaves the room at once.
Then Sir Francis turns and holds out in his hand the little paper that had held for her a message of eternal woe. "Is—is it true?"