Chapter 3 - Page 2

and while she knew
they had the excuse of her recent bereavement she felt that it made
the house ghastly. It had never been silent and empty. Things had
always been going on and now there was actually not a sound to be
heard--no one going up and down stairs--Rob's room cleared of all
his belongings and left orderly and empty--the drawing-room like a
gay little tomb without an occupant. How long WOULD it be before
it would be full of people again--how long must she wait before
she could decently invite anyone?--It was really at this point that
fright seized upon her. Her brain was not given to activities of
reasoning and followed no thought far. She had not begun to ask
herself questions as to ways and means. Rob had been winning at
cards and had borrowed some money from a new acquaintance so no
immediate abyss had yawned at her feet. But when the thought of
future festivities rose before her a sudden check made her involuntarily
clutch at her throat. She had no money at all, bills were piled
everywhere, perhaps now Robert was dead none of the shops would
give her credit. She remembered hearing Rob come into the house
swearing only the day before he was taken ill and it had been
because he had met on the door-step a collector of the rent which
was long over-due and must be paid. She had no money to pay it,
none to pay the servants' wages, none to pay the household bills,
none to pay for the monthly hire of the brougham! Would they turn
her into the street--would the servants go away--would she be left
without even a carriage? What could she do about clothes! She
could not wear anything but mourning now and by the time she was
out of mourning her old clothes would have gone out of fashion.
The morning on which this aspect of things occurred to her, she
was so terrified that she began to run up and down the room like a
frightened little cat seeing no escape from the trap it is caught
in.

"It's awful--it's awful--it's awful!" broke out between her sobs.
"What can I do? I can't do anything! There's nothing to do! It's
awful--it's awful--it's awful!" She ended by throwing herself on
the bed crying until she was exhausted. She had no mental resources
which would suggest to her that there was anything but crying to
be done. She had cried very little in her life previously because
even in her days of limitation she had been able to get more or
less what she wanted--though of course it had generally been less.
And crying made one's nose and eyes red. On this occasion she
actually forgot her nose and eyes and cried until she scarcely
knew herself when she got up and looked in the glass.

She rang the bell for her maid and sat down to wait her coming.
Tonson should bring her