“I want him! I want him! He is my little baby! Take me too!” Her own voice sounded scarcely more than that of a child, though all the abandonment of long pent-up nature rang in it--yet so pure and sweet. And now again, for the second time that morning, the Master became aware of her presence there. Again, her eyes riveted on his, she saw the stronger light of passion rising up in them, and almost as Timothy had done, she smiled. Then, as if she had been no heavier than a little child, he lifted her from her kneeling-place upon the bed, and all the happiness in Marigold’s nature burst out in a sweet and merry, yet half-trembling laugh--for she did not care in this moment of abandonment whether he crushed every bone in her body, or smothered her with kisses, or anything, so long as he held her close up to him in this first paroxysm of love. How long passed thus she never knew, till suddenly she felt the strong arms slacken as by some electric chilling shock. She knew instinctively (though how she knew--perhaps there had been some rays of triumph mixed with Marigold’s laugh) that his head had turned in the direction of the picture, but even she was not prepared for the reaction. For the scorn and anger in his eyes were terrible, as for the moment he held her roughly at arm’s length, looking at her--scorn and anger and hatred, that sent all Marigold’s blood chilled to her heart. And then, with a savage sound of fury, he caught hold of her white throat (the throat he had so lately kissed) with his strong fingers, and flung her from him, dashing against the wall and ground--no more. For now Silence reigned--Silence and Death--over two lifeless forms--one on the bed, face upwards; one in a huddled heap, face down, upon the floor. CHAPTER XIX A little while later, Alice, coming upstairs, found her mistress lying unconscious, and Timothy quite dead upon the bed. It was a shock to her, but Alice left to herself was somewhat phlegmatic, and, having lived with Marigold over five years, had got into the admirable habit of never being too surprised. Timothy was dead, laid out peacefully upon the bed, just as when the Master put him there. For him nothing further could be done. With strange misgivings she turned to her mistress, kneeling down and turning her round towards the light.