And now it was all over. After a year of illness and gradual decline the
end had come two days before. Nothing could induce Miss Wickham to have
a professional nurse. The long strain and weeks of broken rest had told
even on Nora's strength. Kindly Dr. Evans had insisted that she be put
immediately to bed and Kate, the parlor maid, who had always been
devoted to her, had undressed her as if she had been a baby. For the
last two days she had done little but sleep the dreamless sleep of utter
exhaustion. And to-day was the day of the funeral. She was just about to
ring to find the time, when Kate's gentle knock came at the door.

"Come in. Good morning, Kate. Do tell me the time. Oh! How good it is to
be lazy once in a while."

"Good morning to you, Miss. I hope you're feeling a bit rested. It's
just gone eleven. Dr. Evans has called, Miss. He told me to see if you
had waked."

"How good of him. Ask him to wait a few moments and I'll come right
down." 'Coming right down' was not so easy a matter as she had thought.
Nora found herself strangely weak and languid. She was still sitting on
the edge of her bed, trying to gather energy for the task of dressing,
when Kate returned.

"I beg your pardon, Miss, but Dr. Evans says you're not to get up until
he sees you. I'm to bring you a bit of toast and your tea and to help
you freshen up a bit and then he will come up in twenty minutes. He says
to tell you that he has plenty of time."

Nora made a show of protest. Secretly she was rather glad to give in.