It was a mere figure of speech--in no degree satisfactory to any reasonable mind--to say, as Lady Lundie said, that she had got her death-blow on the day when her husband deserted her.

The one thing certain was the fact--account for it as you might.
In spite of science (which meant little), in spite of her own courage (which meant much), the woman dropped at her post and died.
In the latter part of her illness her mind gave way.

The friend of her old school-days, sitting at the bedside, heard her talking as if she thought herself back again in the cabin of the ship.

The poor soul found the tone, almost the look, that had been lost for so many years--the tone of the past time when the two girls had gone their different ways in the world.

She said, "we will meet, darling, with all the old love between us," just as she had said almost a lifetime since.