"Irene, are we to walk different paths henceforth—utter strangers? Is such your will?"
"Such is the necessity, which must be as apparent to you as to me. Do not doubt my friendship, Mr. Aubrey; but doubt the propriety of my parading it before the world."
He bent his cheek down on her cold hand, then raised it to his lips once, twice—laid it back on her lap, and taking his hat, walked away toward town.
For some time she remained just as Russell had left her; then the white arms and dry eyes were raised to the midnight sky.
"My God! my God! strengthen me in my desolation!"
She put back the folds of hair that, damp with dew, clung to her gleaming temples, and recrossing the wide road or street, approached the chamber of death.
Irene met at the door Dr. Arnold's buggy.
"Irene, are you ready to go home?"
"Yes. Mrs. Davis is dead."
"As I was leaving Mrs. Churchill's, your father told me where you were, and I thought I would come after you. Put on your shawl and jump in. You are in a pretty plight, truly, to stand over a deathbed! 'Vanity of vanities! all is vanity!' Here, let me wrap that gauze cloud around your head. Now then!"