Her eyes were starting out of her head, her face flushed and
distorted.
"You go to her!" She stooped, panting, over the balusters, addressing
Mrs. Colwood. "She won't let me touch her."
Diana descended, groping. At the foot of the stairs she caught at Mrs.
Colwood's hand, went swaying across the hall and into the drawing-room.
There she closed the door, and looked into Mrs. Colwood's eyes. Muriel
saw a face in which bloom and first youth were forever dead, though in
its delicate features horror was still beautiful. She threw her arms
round the girl, weeping. But Diana put her aside. She walked to a chair,
and sat down. "My mother--" she said, looking up.
Her voice dropped. She moistened her dry lips, and began once more: "My
mother--"
But the brain could maintain its flickering strength no longer. There
was a low cry of "Oliver!" that stabbed the heart; then, suddenly, her
limbs were loosened, and she sank back, unconscious, out of her friend's
grasp and ken.
CHAPTER XI
"Her ladyship will be here directly, sir." Lady Lucy's immaculate butler
opened the door of her drawing-room in Eaton Square, ushered in Sir
James Chide, noiselessly crossed the room to see to the fire, and then
as noiselessly withdrew.
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