" "My God!" cried Trenchard, stunned by the intelligence, "I have killed her. Before I met you I never met any one whom I felt I could love, but you have discovered depths in my own nature I had scarcely suspected. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. She turned back to Gerald, holding out her hand. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. You should have known better, you cannot die, so your body and your instinct will 213 take over as your mind departs. What is it? Good God!” An unhappy little smile parted her lips. . It was not your fault you failed.
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