“Mrs. Herbert has said vile things about you and me. She said you were—”
“I know. But now she is in trouble, and I am sorry for her. I can forget what she has said. She was once my friend, and so I will go to her.”
She dressed quickly, and they drove to Mrs. Herbert’s.
Launa did not ask whether Lily would see her. She sent him away and went in alone. A bewildered maid, whose eyes were red with weeping, led the way to the drawing-room.
Mrs. Herbert lay, face downwards, on the big sofa. She had stayed on the floor until the maids lifted her on to it.
In her mind was a galloping medley of thoughts and regrets, of ungratified desires; a repetition of words she had not said, and now could never say, hurried through her brain with torturing reiteration.
Launa kneeled by her.
“I have come to you to try and comfort you.”
Mrs. Herbert moaned—and then started.
“You! you! Oh Launa, I am so wretched. He is dead—dead without knowing how I love him. . . . He will never know. Is it really you, Launa? I was a brute to you; I was jealous of you. Can you forgive me? I am alone, alone. I thought he was fond of you.”