But he had repulsed her harshly, refusing her pleading with an inexorable decision there was no combating.
Afterwards she had given herself up to despair, and gradually--almost imperceptibly at first--her health had declined until finally, at the urgent representations of Virginie, Hugh had called in Dr.Lancaster.
"There is no specific disease," he had said.

"But none the less"-- looking very directly at Hugh--"your wife is dying, Vallincourt." Diane had been told the first part of the doctor's pronouncement, and recommended by her husband to "rouse herself" out of her apathetic state.
"'No specific disease!'" she repeated bitterly, as she sat brooding in the firelight.

"No--only this death in life which I have had to endure.
Well, it will be over soon--and the sooner the better." The door burst open suddenly and Magda came in to the room, checking abruptly, with a child's stumbling consciousness of pain, as she caught sight of her mother curled up in front of the fire, staring mutely into its glowing heart.
"_Maman_ ?" she begin timidly.

"_Petite maman_ ?" Diane turned round.
"Cherie, is it thou ?" She kneeled up on the hearthrug and, taking the child in her arms, searched her face with dry, bright eyes.
"Baby," she said.

"Listen! And when thou art older, remember always what I have said." Magda stared at her, listening intently.
"Never, never give your heart to any man," continued Diane.