s.

That was the end of this truly odious British matron.

In after days Bastin, by some peculiar mental process, canonised her in
his imagination as a kind of saint. "So loving," he would say, "such a
devoted wife! Why, my dear Humphrey, I can assure you that even in the
midst of her death-struggle her last thoughts were of me," words that
caused Bickley to snort with more than usual vigour, until I kicked him
to silence beneath the table.

Chapter IV. Death and Departure

Now I must tell of my own terrible sorrow, which turned my life to
bitterness and my hopes to ashes.

Never were a man and a woman happier together than I and Natalie.
Mentally, physically, spiritually we were perfectly mated, and we loved
each other dearly. Truly we were as one. Yet there was something about
her which filled me with vague fears, especially after she found that
she was to become a mother. I would talk to her of the child, but she
would sigh and shake her head, her eyes filling with tears, and say that
we must not count on the continuance of such happiness as ours, for it
was too great.

I tried to laugh away her doubts, though whenever I did so I seemed to
hear Bastin's slow voice remarking casually that she might die, as he
might have commented on the quality of the claret. At last, however, I
grew terrified and asked her bluntly what she meant.

"I don't quite know, dearest," she replied, "especially as I am
wonderfully well. But--but--"

"But what?" I asked.

"But I think that our companionship is going to be broken for a little
while."

"For a little while!" I exclaimed.

"Yes, Humphrey. I think that I shall be taken away from you--you know
what I mean," and she nodded towards the churchyard.

"Oh, my God!" I groaned.

"I want to say this," she added quickly, "that if such a thing should
happen, as it happens every day, I implore you, dearest Humphrey, not to
be too much distressed, since I am sure that you will find me again.
No, I can't explain how or when or where, because I do not know. I have
prayed for light, but it has not come to me. All I know is that I am not
talking of reunion in Mr. Bastin's kind of conventional heaven, which he
speaks about as though to reach it one stumbled through darkness for
a minute into a fine new house next door, where excellent servants had
made everything ready for your arrival and all the lights were turned
up. It is something quite different from that and very much m