my mind leaps from that to the moment in the afternoon, when torn by intolerable distresses and anxiety i knocked and rang, and again knocked at the door of the house she occupied in south street, with the intention of making one last appeal to her to live—if, indeed, it was death she had in mind. i had let her go from me and instantly a hundred neglected things had come into my head. i could go away with her, i could threaten to die with her; it seemed to me that nothing in all the world mattered if only i could thrust back the dark hand of death to which she had so manifestly turned. i knew, i knew all along that her extorted promise would not bind her. i knew and i let the faintest shadow of uncertainty weaken and restrain me. and i went to her too late. i saw instantly that i was too late when the door opened and showed me the scared face of a young footman whose eyes were red with tears.
"are you doctor——?" he asked of my silence.
"i want——" i said. "i must speak to lady mary."
he was wordless for a moment. "she—she died, sir," he said. "she's died suddenly." his face quivered, he was blubbering. he couldn't say anything more; he stood snivelling in the doorway.
for some moments i remained confronting him as if i would dispute his words. some things the mind contests in the face of invincible conviction. one wants to thrust back time....
