kness of the heart, determined
probably years before by the agitations and terrors to which her
marriage had introduced her. She had had in those days cruel scenes with
her husband, she had been in fear of her life. All emotion, everything
in the nature of anxiety and suspense had been after that to be strongly
deprecated, as in her marked cultivation of a quiet life she was
evidently well aware; but who could say that any one, especially a "real
lady," could be successfully protected from every little rub? She had
had one a day or two before in the news of her husband's death; for
there were shocks of all kinds, not only those of grief and surprise.
For that matter she had never dreamed of so near a release; it had
looked uncommonly as if he would live as long as herself. Then in the
evening, in town, she had manifestly had another: something must have
happened there which it would be indispensable to clear up. She had come
back very late--it was past eleven o'clock, and on being met in the hall
by her cousin, who was extremely anxious, had said that she was tired
and must rest a moment before mounting the stairs. They had passed
together into the dining-room, her companion proposing a glass of wine
and bustling to the sideboard to pour it out. This took but a moment,
and when my informant turned round our poor friend had not had time to
seat herself. Suddenly, with a little moan that was barely audible, she
dropped upon the sofa. She was dead. What unknown "little rub" had dealt
her the blow? What shock, in the name of wonder, _had_ she had in town?
I mentioned immediately the only one I could imagine--her having failed
to meet at my house, to which by invitation for the purpose she had
come at five o'clock, the gentleman I was to be married to, who had been
accidentally kept away and with whom she had no acquaintance whatever.
This obviously counted for little; but something else might easily
have occurred; nothing in the London streets was more possible than an
accident, especially an accident in those desperate cabs. What had she
done, where had she gone on leaving my house? I had taken for granted
she had gone straight home. We both presently remembered that in her
excursions to town she sometimes, for convenience, for refreshment,
spent an hour or two at the "Gentlewomen," the quiet little ladies'
club, and I promised that it should be my first care to make at that
establishment thorough inquiry. Then we entered th