CONCLUSION.
It came one glorious morning towards the end of August, when the
sunlight was dancing over the Lea, and there was a glory of brightness
on the earth as well as on the water.
Mrs. Mortomley sat in an easy-chair drawn close up by the open window,
and every now and then those around looked at her with furtive and
apprehensive glances. There was no longer any effort at disguise. Her
aunt, Mrs. Werner, Mr. and Miss Douglas, Mortomley himself, comprehended
the end was very near, and only little Lenore was kept in ignorance.
Dolly insisted upon this and on having her sent to Dassell till all
should be over.
"God bless you, my child!" was the mother's fare-well, uttered without a
tear.
She wept her tears afterwards when she was all alone.
"I do not feel nearly so well this morning," said Mrs. Mortomley at
last. "I do wish, oh! how I wish that London letter would come!"
"Never mind the letter, dear," entreated her husband.
"But I must mind," she answered. "I have so hoped it would come in
time."
"So it will," said Mr. Douglas kindly, "you may be quite certain of
that, my dear."
She murmured some words, the sense of which was only caught by Mrs.
Werner.
"Not in my time, though."
At that moment the post arrived, and amongst the letters was that Dolly
had hoped she might live to read.
Her husband was free, and with a happy smile Dolly leaned back in her
chair and scanned the lines as well as weakness would let her.
"You ought not to have risen this morning," said Miss Gerace severely.
"Oh! aunt, I was so weary of the night," and then they looked at each
other sadly.
"I wish you would all go away and leave me with Archie," said Mrs.
Mortomley, after a short pause, and accordingly they went, and husband
and wife were left alone.
She had nothing to say to him. If she had she could not have said it to
him then. He sat holding her hand in his, and she lay, her head resting
on the back of the chair, her figure supported by pillows, her eyes
closed, hovering as if loth to go, on the very confines of that life
which had to her been so full of joy, and so full of sorrow.
All at once she half raised herself from the chair, and, turning towards
her husband, said,
"Archie," whilst her whole face seemed to beam with love and happiness.
She had never, when he was near, left Homewood without turning at the
gate to smile and wave her hand to Mortomley; and it seemed to him
then, and he will always retain the pleasant fancy, that from the very
shore of Eternity, with the glad light of Heaven shining upon and
beautifying her face, she spoke that one word, she turned back for an
instant to smile fare-well.
THE END.
PRINTED BY TAYLOR AND CO.,
LITTLE QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS.
* * * * *
Transcriber's note:
A number of printing errors have been corrected. For example,
"solilicitor" is now "solicitor," "acquaintaince" is now "acquaintance,"
"beleagured" is now "beleaguered," and "suroundings" is
now "surroundings."