Mimi was greatly distressed when she saw her cousin lying prone.  She had a few times in her life seen Lilla on the verge of fainting, but never senseless; and now she was frightened.  She threw herself on her knees beside Lilla, and tried, by rubbing her hands and other measures commonly known, to restore her.  But all her efforts were unavailing.  Lilla still lay white and senseless.  In fact, each moment she looked worse; her breast, that had been heaving with the stress, became still, and the pallor of her face grew like marble.

At these succeeding changes Mimi’s fright grew, till it altogether mastered her.  She succeeded in controlling herself only to the extent that she did not scream.

Lady Arabella had followed Caswall, when he had recovered sufficiently to get up and walk—though stumblingly—in the direction of Castra Regis.  When Mimi was quite alone with Lilla and the need for effort had ceased, she felt weak and trembled.  In her own mind, she attributed it to a sudden change in the weather—it was momentarily becoming apparent that a storm was coming on.

She raised Lilla’s head and laid it on her warm young breast, but all in vain.  The cold of the white features thrilled through her, and she utterly collapsed when it was borne in on her that Lilla had passed away.

The dusk gradually deepened and the shades of evening closed in, but Mimi did not seem to notice or to care.  She sat on the floor with her arms round the body of the girl whom she loved.  Darker and blacker grew the sky as the coming storm and the closing night joined forces.  Still she sat on—alone—tearless—unable to think.  Mimi did not know how long she sat there.  Though it seemed to her that ages had passed, it could not have been more than half-an-hour.  She suddenly came to herself, and was surprised to find that her grandfather had not returned.  For a while she lay quiet, thinking of the immediate past.  Lilla’s hand was still in hers, and to her surprise it was still warm.  Somehow this helped her consciousness, and without any special act of will she stood up.  She lit a lamp and looked at her cousin.  There was no doubt that Lilla was dead; but when the lamp-light fell on her eyes, they seemed to look at Mimi with intent—with meaning.  In this state of dark isolation a new resolution came to her, and grew and grew until it became a fixed definite purpose.  She would face Caswall and call him to account for his murder of Lilla—that was what she called it to herself.  She would also take steps—she knew not what or how—to avenge the part taken by Lady Arabella.

In this frame of mind she lit all the lamps in the room, got water and linen from her room, and set about the decent ordering of Lilla’s body.  This took some time; but when it was finished, she put on her hat and cloak, put out the lights, and set out quietly for Castra Regis.

As Mimi drew near the Castle, she saw no lights except those in and around the tower room.  The lights showed her that Mr. Caswall was there, so she entered by the hall door, which as usual was open, and felt her way in the darkness up the staircase to the lobby of the room.  The door was ajar, and the light from within showed brilliantly through the opening.  She saw Edgar Caswall walking restlessly to and fro in the room, with his hands clasped behind his back.  She opened the door without knocking, and walked right into the room.  As she entered, he ceased walking, and stared at her in surprise.  She made no remark, no comment, but continued the fixed look which he had seen on her entrance.

For a time silence reigned, and the two stood looking fixedly at each other.  Mimi was the first to speak.

“You murderer!  Lilla is dead!”

“Dead!  Good God!  When did she die?”

“She died this afternoon, just after you left her.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes—and so are you—or you ought to be.  You killed her!”

“I killed her!  Be careful what you say!”

“As God sees us, it is true; and you know it.  You came to Mercy Farm on purpose to break her—if you could.  And the accomplice of your guilt, Lady Arabella March, came for the same purpose.”

“Be careful, woman,” he said hotly.  “Do not use such names in that way, or you shall suffer for it.”

“I am suffering for it—have suffered for it—shall suffer for it.  Not for speaking the truth as I have done, but because you two, with devilish malignity, did my darling to death.  It is you and your accomplice who have to dread punishment, not I.”

“Take care!” he said again.

“Oh, I am not afraid of you or your accomplice,” she answered spiritedly.  “I am content to stand by every word I have said, every act I have done.  Moreover, I believe in God’s justice.  I fear not the grinding of His mills; if necessary I shall set the wheels in motion myself.  But you don’t care for God, or believe in Him.  Your god is your great kite, which cows the birds of a whole district.  But be sure that His hand, when it rises, always falls at the appointed time.  It may be that your name is being called even at this very moment at the Great Assize.  Repent while th............