In the meantime they had carried the body of the hapless lady to her own chamber; the weeping, terrified servants filled the room, and Mrs. Glynn, the housekeeper, armed with authority, sent them all away except Mary Thorne. They laid her on the sumptuous bed, with its pink silk and white lace hangings; they wrung the water from her long, fair hair, and then there came the sound of an arrival. “All the doctors on earth could not help her, poor lady,” said Mrs. Glynn, with a long-drawn sigh. But the doctors came in and tried their best. “Stone dead--she has been dead over two hours,” said Dr. Mayne. “How did it happen?” Before there was time for a reply the door opened again, and Sir Ronald Alden, the lady’s husband, master of Aldenmere, entered. He walked quickly up to the bedside and his eyes fell upon the silent figure lying there. The ghastly fear in his face deepened as he gazed. “What is it?” he said, clutching Dr. Mayne’s arm. “What has happened--what is this?” “You must bear it bravely, Sir Ronald,” said the doctor, pityingly. “Lady Alden has met with a terrible accident.” He bent over her with trembling hands and wild, desperate horror in his face. “She is dead?” he cried. “Yes,” said the doctor, quietly; “she is dead. Poor lady; she has been dead for two hours.” Sir Ronald sank back in a chair. He repeated the words with a gasping sob, more terrible than tears. “Dead!” he said, “my wife--Clarice--dead!” They went away, doctors and servants, thinking it would be better to leave him alone with his dead, to give him time for the first sharp pain to vent itself in tears and words. But to their surprise, in a few minutes he followed them, with the ghastly pallor on his face. “How did it happen?” he cried; “you have not told me that.” “We do not know,” replied Dr. Mayne. “It has all been so strange, so awfully sudden. Half an hour ago one of your grooms galloped over to my house and told me Lady Alden had been found drowned in the river. I came at once, and found she had been dead two hours and more. You will hear more details from the servants.” “You are sure she is dead?” he repeated. “There have been wonderful cases of resuscitation after apparent drowning. Has all been done that is possible?” “Only God could restore her to life,” said the doctor, reverently. While the words were yet on his lips, the door of the library opened and the housekeeper came in, looking so ill and alarmed that Dr. Mayne went near to her. “Oh, sir!” she cried, “will you come upstairs?--will you come up to my lady’s room?” “Certainly.” And the doctor, wondering much what had happened, rose to go. “Stay!” said Sir Ronald. “What is it, Mrs. Glynn?” “I cannot tell you, Sir Ronald, it is too horrible. My lady was not drowned.” “Not drowned!” they repeated. “No,” said the woman, with a shudder; “it is worse than that.”