At their breakfasts her friends, her acquaintances, her enemies and the general public read of her beautiful singing at the concert, and read also the following paragraph, which closed the description of the accident:
“We deeply regret to learn that Lady Holme was severely injured in
the face by the accident. Full particulars have not reached us, but
we understand that an immediate operation is necessary and will be
performed to-day by Mr. Bernard Crispin the famous surgeon. Her
ladyship is suffering great pain, and it is feared that she will be
permanently disfigured.”
The fierce change which Lady Holme had longed for was a reality. One life, the life of the siren, had come to an end. But the eyes of the woman must still see light. The heart of the woman must still beat on.
Death stretched out a hand in the darkness and found the hand of Birth.
CHAPTER XVII
ON a warm but overcast day, at the end of the following September, a woman, whose face was completely hidden by a thick black veil, drove up to the boat landing of the town of Como in a hired victoria. She was alone, but behind her followed a second carriage containing an Italian maid and a large quantity of luggage. When the victoria stopped at the water’s edge the woman got out slowly, and stood for a moment, apparently looking for something. There were many boats ranged along the quay, their white awnings thrown back, their oars resting on the painted seats. Beside one, which was larger than the others, soberly decorated in brown with touches of gold, and furnished with broad seats not unlike small armchairs, stood two bold-looking Italian lads dressed in white sailors’ suits. One of them, after staring for a brief instant at the veiled woman, went up to her and said in Italian:
“Is the signora for Casa Felice?”
“Yes.”
The boy took off his round hat with a gallant gesture.