“My mind was going over every possibility.  I was sitting near her bed with the baby on my arm, chattering over plans, arranging peignoirs, laughing at the nurse’s anecdotes, talking and whispering over the thousand feminine things that I knew she would be longing to hear. ...  Or perhaps she was dying... asking for me and wondering why I did not come... thinking I was hunting instead of being with her.  Oh, how often the train stopped!  Did any one really live at these stations?  No one got out; they did not look like real places; why should the train stop?  Should I tell them Laura was dying? ...  We had prayed so often to die the same day. ...  Surely she was not going to die... it could not be... her vitality was too splendid, her youth too great...  God would not allow this thing.  How stiff my face felt with its bandages; and if I cried they would all come off!

“At Swindon I had to change.  I got out and sat in the vast eating-room, with its atmosphere of soup and gas.  A crowd of people were talking of a hunting accident:  this was mine.  Then a woman came in and put her bag down.  A clergyman shook hands with her; he said some one had died.  I moved away.

“‘World!  Trewth!  The Globe!  Paper, miss?  Paper? ...’

“‘No, thank you.’

“‘London train!’ was shouted and I got in.  I knew by the loud galloping sound that we were going between high houses and at each gallop the wheels seemed to say, ‘Too late—­too late!’ After a succession of hoarse screams we dashed into Paddington.

“It was midnight.  I saw a pale, grave face, and recognised Evan Charteris, who had come in Lady Wemyss’ brougham to meet me.  I said: 

‘"Is she dead?’ “To which he answered:  “‘No, but very, very ill.’  “We drove in silence to 4 Upper Brook Street.

Papa, Jack and Godfrey Webb stood in the hall.  They stopped me as I passed and said:  ‘She is no worse’; but I could not listen.  I saw Arthur Balfour and Spencer Lyttelton standing near the door of Alfred’s room.  They said:  “‘You look ill.  Have you had a fall?’

“I explained the plaster on my swollen face and asked if I might go upstairs to see Laura; and they said they thought I might.  When I got to the top landing, I stood in the open doorway of the boudoir.  A man was sitting in an arm-chair by a table with a candle on it.  It was Alfred and I passed on.  I saw the silhouette of a woman through the open door of Laura’s room; this was Charty.  We held each other close to our hearts... her face felt hot and her eyes were heavy.

“‘Don’t look at her to-night, sweet.  She is unconscious,’ she said.

“I did not take this in and asked to be allowed to say one word to her. ...  I said: 

“’I know she’d like to see me, darling, if only just to nod to, and I promise I will go away quickly.  Indeed, indeed I would not tire her!  I want to tell her the train was late and the doctor would not let me come up yesterday.  Only one second, please, Charty! ...’