All I said was that she appears to welcome it, or rather its
issue. And I will add this on my own account, that when she does die the
world will lose one of the sweetest women that ever walked upon it. Good
morning."
"I know what he means," said Anthony to himself, as he watched the
retreating form. "He means that I have murdered her, and perhaps I
have. She is sick of me and wants to get back to my father, who was
so different. That's why she won't go on living when she might. She is
committing suicide--of a holy sort. Well, what made me a brute and her
an angel? And when she's gone how will the brute get on without the
angel? Why should I be filled with fury and wickedness and she of whom
I was born with sweetness and light? Let God or the devil answer that
if they can. My mother, oh! my mother!" and this violent, sinister youth
hid his face in his hands and wept.
Barbara sank down and down into a very whirlpool of nothingness. Bending
over it, as it were, she saw the face of her aged mother, the faces of
some of her dear sisters, the face of the kindly doctor, and lastly the
agonised face of her handsome son.
"Mother! Don't leave me, mother. Mother! for God's sake come back to me,
mother, or we shall never meet again.
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