“Someone—?”

“Mr. Brympton, I think—­I hear his step below—­”

A dreadful look came over her, and without a word, she dropped flat at my feet.  I fell on my knees and tried to lift her:  by the way she breathed I saw it was no common faint.  But as I raised her head there came quick steps on the stairs and across the hall:  the door was flung open, and there stood Mr. Brympton, in his travelling-clothes, the snow dripping from him.  He drew back with a start as he saw me kneeling by my mistress.

“What the devil is this?” he shouted.  He was less high-colored than usual, and the red spot came out on his forehead.

“Mrs. Brympton has fainted, sir,” said I.

He laughed unsteadily and pushed by me.  “It’s a pity she didn’t choose a more convenient moment.  I’m sorry to disturb her, but—­”

I raised myself up, aghast at the man’s action.

“Sir,” said I, “are you mad?  What are you doing?”

“Going to meet a friend,” said he, and seemed to make for the dressing-room.

At that my heart turned over.  I don’t know what I thought or feared; but I sprang up and caught him by the sleeve.

“Sir, sir,” said I, “for pity’s sake look at your wife!”

He shook me off furiously.

“It seems that’s done for me,” says he, and caught hold of the dressing-room door.

At that moment I heard a slight noise inside.  Slight as it was, he heard it too, and tore the door open; but as he did so he dropped back.  On the threshold stood Emma Saxon.  All was dark behind her, but I saw her plainly, and so did he.  He threw up his hands as if to hide his face from her; and when I looked again she was gone.

He stood motionless, as if the strength had run out of him; and in the stillness my mistress suddenly raised herself, and opening her eyes fixed a look on him.  Then she fell back, and I saw the death-flutter pass over her....

We buried her on the third day, in a driving snow-storm.  There were few people in the church, for it was bad weather to come from town, and I’ve a notion my mistress was one that hadn’t many near friends.  Mr. Ranford was among the last to come, just before they carried her up the aisle.  He was in black, of course, being such a friend of the family, and I never saw a gentleman so pale.  As he passed me, I noticed that he leaned a trifle on a stick he carried; and I fancy Mr. Brympton noticed it too, for the red spot came out sharp on his forehead, and all through the service he kept staring across the church at Mr. Ranford, instead of following the prayers as a mourner should.

When it was over and we went out to the graveyard, Mr. Ranford had disappeared, and as soon as my poor mistress’s body was underground, Mr. Brympton jumped into the carriage nearest the gate and drove off without a word to any of us.  I heard him call out, “To the station,” and we servants went back alone to the house.