hat torment was over. She seemed to be sliding rapidly and smoothly
down a misty river. She could see no banks, no sky; all was white, soft,
silent. There was no strength left in her with which to struggle against
the thought of death, no strength with which to fear it.

But, as she lay in the little room, her hands folded on her breast,
corpse-like already in her placidity, something wailed within her and
lamented. And sometimes tears rose slowly and swelled her eyelids and
she felt herself a creature coffined and underground, put away and
forgotten, though not yet a creature dead. Her heart in the darkness
still lived and throbbed. Thoughts of Gregory were with her always,
memories of him and of their life together which, now that she had lost
him forever, she might cherish. She felt, though she lay so still, that
she put out her hands always, in supplication, to Gregory. He would
forget her, or remember her only as his disgrace. It seemed to her that
if she could feel Gregory lean to her and kiss her forehead in
tenderness and reconciliation her breath could sweetly cease.

The day before the departure was come and it was a warm, quiet
afternoon. Tante had been with her in the morning, engaged in
preparations for the journey. She had brought to show to Karen the
exquisite nightgowns and wrappers, of softest wool and silk, that she
was to wear on the yacht. The long cloak, too, of silk all lined with
swansdown, such a garment as the tenderest, most cherished of mortals
should wear. This was for Karen when she lay on deck in the sun. And
there was a heavier fur-lined cloak for chilly days and the loveliest of
shoes and stockings and scarves. All these things Tante had sent for for
Karen, and Karen thanked her, as she displayed them before her, gently
and coldly. She felt that Tante was piteous at these moments, but
nothing in her was moved towards her. Already she was dead to Tante.

She was alone now, again, and she would not see Tante till tea-time.
Tante had asked her if she could sleep and she had said yes. She lay
with eyes closed, vaguely aware of the sounds that rose to her from the
room beneath, where Tante was engaged with the landlady in arranging the
new possessions in boxes, and of the fainter sounds from the road in
front of the house. Wheels rolled up and stopped. They often came,
during these last days; Tante's purchases were arriving by every post.
And the voices below seemed presently to alter in pitc