“Well, why not? With her it is probably no time, simply a long, dreary future through which she must exist. I will change my dress; ring for tea, and then you can come with me—in a hansom.”
“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.
“I have come to you to try and comfort you.”
“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.”
“Help me!” said the other. “It is all over.”
For some days Launa stayed with her. Lily was more than miserable; she was crushed, and could not bear to be alone.
There was so much inaction, none of those details which have to be fulfilled when anyone dies at home, no work was to be done except the purchasing of black, no beautiful flowers to arrange, no farewell look, painful, yet a comfort, for in the last sleep the wayfarer appears at peace. There was nothing, only a dumb hideous sorrow and remorse, endless torment, weary reflection on a dreadful past, which she would have blotted out if she could, and the tears of repentance wash away nothing.
Some days had passed since the dreadful tidings.
Mrs. Herbert went exhausted to bed, and Launa left her to go home.
Hugh Wainbridge had come to fetch her, and stayed until after tea. Launa was resting when Sylvia came in.
She wandered about the room touching everything until Launa said:
“Sit down, Sylvia, unless you desire to be slain.”