A light broke upon her. "Oh, Percival, it is about Robert! Surely he is
not worse!"

He drew her closer to him: not speaking.

"He is not dead?" she said, with a rush of tears. "Ah, you need not tell
me; I see it. Robert! Robert!"

"It has been a happy death, Maude, and he is better off. He was quite
ready to go. I wish we were as ready!"

Lord Hartledon took out the letter and read the chief portion of it to
her. One little part he dexterously omitted, describing the cause of
death--disease of the heart.

"But I thought he was getting so much better. What has killed him in this
sudden manner?"

"Well, there was no great hope from the first. I confess I have
entertained none. Mr. Hillary, you know, warned us it might end either
way."

"Was it decline?" she asked, her tears falling.

"He has been declining gradually, no doubt."

"Oh, Percival! Why did you not tell me at once? It seems so cruel to have
had all that entertainment yesterday! This is why you did not wish us to
dance!"

"And if I had told you, and stopped the entertainment, allowing the poor
little fellow to be christened in gloom and sorrow, you would have been
the first to reproach me; you might have said it augured ill-luck for the
child."

"Well, perhaps I should; yes, I am sure I should. You have acted rightly,
after all, Val." And it was a candid admission, considering what she had
been previously saying. He bent towards her with a smile, his voice quite
unsteady with its earnestness.

"You see now with what motive I kept the letter from you. Maude! cannot
this be an earnest that you should trust me for the rest? In all I do, as
Heaven is my witness, I place your comfort first and foremost."

"Don't be angry with me," she cried, softening at the words.

He laid his hand on his wife's bent head, thinking how far he was from
anger. Anger? He would have died for her then, at that moment, if it
might have saved her from the sin and shame that she must share with him.

"Have you told mamma, Percival?"

"Not yet. It would not have been kept from you long had she known it. She
is not up yet, I think."

"Who has written?"

"The doctor who attended him."

"You'll let me read the letter?"

"I have written to desire that full particulars may be sent to you: you
shall read that one."

The tacit refusal did not strike her. She only supposed the future letter
would be more explanatory. He was always anxious for her; and he had
written