She returned, and presently she redeemed her promise, for she actually got Mrs. Broad away. At first she was obstinate, but Priscilla whispered that she wished to see her husband alone, and the doctor took upon him to warn Mrs. Broad that resistance on her part might be dangerous. She then retreated with him, and George found himself by the bedside. His wife was so prostrate that she was hardly able to make herself heard, but she lifted up her finger and made a sign that he should bend his head down to her. He bent it down, and her damp brown hair—the beautiful brown hair he had loved so—lay on his forehead, and its scent was all about him once more. “George, my dear,” she just breathed out, “I am a poor silly girl, but I always loved you.” He stopped her instantly with his kisses, but Death had stopped her too. He recoiled for a moment, and with a sudden scream. “O God, she’s gone!” he fell into the arms of his nurse, who stood behind him. CHAPTER XXVI A PROFESSIONAL CONSULTATION THREE months passed, during which the Allens’ pew was vacant at Tanner’s Lane. George remained at home with his only child, or was at his mother’s, or, shocking to relate, was in the fields, but not at chapel; nor were any of his family there. During the whole of these three months one image was for ever before his eyes. What self-accusations! Of what injustice had he not been guilty? Little things, at the time unnoticed, turns of her head, smiles, the fall of her hair—oh, that sweet sweet brown hair!—all came back to him, and were as real before him as the garden wall. He thought of her lying in her grave—she whom he had caressed—of what was going on down there, under the turf, and he feared he should go mad. Where was she? Gone, for ever gone—gone before he had been able to make her understand how much he really loved her, and so send her to sleep in peace. But was she not in heaven? Would he not see her again? He did not know. Strange to say, but true, he, a member of Tanner’s Lane Church, who had never read a sceptical book in his life, was obliged to confess, perhaps not consciously, but none the less actually, he did not know.