could never catch that train. It did not matter; there was another to
Paddington an hour later: it was a slow train, but she would be with
Vincent by eleven.

But she was faint, and had to have some luncheon before she could do
anything; and there was so much to do. She flew hither and thither,
trying to collect her clothes and her thoughts. Her grey cloak and her
bearskins--she would want them, it would be cold in the train. And her
best hat--where was her best hat? Cousin Bella had hidden her best hat.
Ah! she _must_ think, or everything would go wrong. What was it all
about? Vincent dying--dying? Audrey knew little about dying, except that
it was a habit people had of plunging you suddenly into mourning when
you had just ordered a new dress. Death was another of those things she
could not understand.

By the time she had had luncheon, and decided what clothes she would
take, and packed them; by the time the one old fly in the village had
been ordered, and had made its way at a funereal pace to
Barnstaple,--Audrey was just in time to see the three-o'clock train
steaming out of the station. By taking the next train and travelling all
night, she would only reach Paddington at four in the morning.

As she was at last borne on towards London, lying back on the cushions
and trying to sleep, the facts became more clear to her. Vincent was
dying; and he had sent for her. She was exalted once more in her own
eyes.

It seemed to her then that her love for Vincent had been the one stable
and enduring thing in her nature, the link that bound her to a
transfigured past, that gave coherence to a life of episodes.

CHAPTER XXIV

Vincent had been ill for six weeks before Katherine sent off her
telegram. For a month of that time he had been struggling with death.
Then, when the mild weather set in, he had taken a sudden turn for the
better, and it seemed to himself and the Havilands that he had won the
victory. Only the doctor and Mrs. Rogers looked grave,--the doctor
because of his science, which taught him to be cautious in raising
people's hopes; Mrs. Rogers, because of a deep theological pessimism.
She unburdened herself to Katherine.

"I knew 'ow it 'ud be when 'e gave up them 'abits of 'is, miss. 'E's
been as good as gold for the last year. 'E 'yn't given me no trouble nor
anybody; a goin' about so soft, and bilin' of 'is corffee in 'is little
Hetna. I said to _myself_ then, 'e's going to be took. It was the sam