When she had sat alone for half an hour in the drawing-room, Eustace
joined her. He said their father had gone out. They talked of
indifferent things till bedtime.
In the morning, the servant who came into Irene's room gave her a
note addressed in the Doctor's hand. It contained the news that Mrs.
Hannaford had died before daybreak. Dr. Derwent himself did not
appear till about ten o'clock, when he arrived together with ills
niece. Olga had been violently hysterical; it seemed the wisest
thing to bring her to Bryanston Square; the change of surroundings
and Irene's sympathy soon restored her to calm.
At midday a messenger brought Irene a letter from Arnold Jacks.
Arnold wrote that he had just heard of her aunt's death: that he was
deeply grieved, and hastened to condole with her. He did not come in
person, thinking she would prefer to let this sad day pass over
before they met, but he would call to-morrow morning. In the
meantime, he would be grateful for a line assuring him that she was
well.
Having read this, Irene threw it aside as if it had been a
tradesman's circular. Not thus should he have written--if write he
must instead of coming. In her state of agitation after the hours
spent with Olga, this bald note of sympathy seemed almost an insult;
to keep silence as to the real cause of Mrs. Hannaford's death was
much the same, she felt, as hinting a doubt of the poor lady's
innocence.
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