Mrs. Adams herself came to the door when Helen rang the bell, and was stupefied with amazement at the first question:
“Is Mr. McArthur in?”
“Mr. McArthur, madam? Has he risen—has he come back?”
“He is ill somewhere—is it not here?” Her heart sank, for she knew already the answer.
“He—isn’t he dead?”
“Dead!”
The girl from the far hills fainted on the doorstep.
Mrs. Adams bore her quietly to the settee and stood over her till she opened her eyes again.
“Did you—did he die here?”