Suddenly she saw Kitty's gloves--Kitty's torn and soiled gloves--lying
on the floor. She clasped her trembling hands, trying to steady herself.
Husband and wife were together. What tragedy was passing between them?
Of course there
might have been an accident; her thoughts might be all
mistake and illusion. But Lady Tranmore hardly allowed herself to
encourage the alternative of hope. It was like Kitty's audacity to have
come back. Incredible!--unfathomable!--like all she did.
"Her ladyship says, my lady, would you please go up to her room?"
The message was given in Blanche's timid voice. Lady Tranmore started,
looked at the girl, longed to question her, and had not the courage. She
followed mechanically, and in silence. Could she, must she face it?
Yes--for her son's sake. She prayed inwardly that she might meet the
ordeal before her with Christian strength and courage.
* * * * *
The door opened. She saw two figures in the pretty, bright-colored room,
William sat astride upon a chair in front of Kitty, who, like some small
mother-bird, hovered above him, holding what seemed to be a tiny strip
of bread-and-butter, which she was dropping with dainty deliberation
into his mouth.
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