She died quite suddenly on the 27th of December, the day upon which SirJohn had announced that they were to move to London.
As a matter of fact, one of the survivors of this trio was to move muchfurther than to London, namely, Isobel herself. It happened thus. Thefuneral was over; the relatives and the few friends who attended it haddeparted to their rooms if they were stopping in the house, orelsewhere; Isobel and her father were left alone. She confronted him, atall, slim figure, whose thick blonde hair and pale face contrastedstrikingly with her black dress. Enormous in shape, for so Sir John hadgrown, carmine-coloured shading to purle about the shaved chin and lips(which were also of rather a curious hue), bald-headed, bold yetshifty-eyed, also clad in black, with a band of crape like to that of aVictorian mute, about his shining tall hat, he leaned against theflorid, marble mantelpiece, a huge obese blot upon its whiteness. Theywere a queer contrast, as dissimilar perhaps as two human beings wellcould be.
For a while there was silence between them, which he, whose nerves werenot so young or strong as his daughter's, was the first to break.
"Well, she's dead, poor dear," he said.
"Yes," answered Isobel, her pent-up indignation bursting forth, "andyou killed her."
Then he too burst forth.
"Damn you, what do you mean, you little minx?" he asked. "Why do yousay I killed her, because I did what I thought the best for all of us?No woman had a better husband, as I am sure she acknowledges in heavento-day."
"I don't know what Mother thinks in heaven, if there is one for her, asthere ought to be. But I do know what I think on earth," remarked theburning Isobel.
"And I know what I think also," shouted her enraged parent, dashing thenew, crape-covered hat on to the table in front of him, "and it is thatthe further you and I are apart from each other, the better we arelikely to get on."
"I agree with you, Father."
"Look here, Isobel, you said that your uncle Edgar, who has beenappointed Minister to Mexico, offered to take you with him to be acompanion to his daughter, your cousin Emily. Well, you can go if youlike. I'll pay the shot and shut up this house for a while. I'm sick ofthe cursed place, and can get to Harwich just as well from London.Write and make the arrangements, for one year, no more. By that timeyour temper may have improved," he added with an ugly sneer.
"Thank you, Father, I will."
He stared at her for a little while. She met his gaze unflinchingly,and in the end it was not her eyes that dropped. Then with a smotheredexclamation he stamped out of the room, kicking Isobel's little terrierout of the path with his elephantine foot. The poor beast, of which shewas very fond, limped to her whining, for it was much hurt. She took itin her arms and kissed it, weeping tears of wrath and pity.
"I wonder what Godfrey would say about the fifth Commandment if he hadbeen here this afternoon, you poor thing," she whispered to thewhimpering dog, which was licking its hanging leg. "There is no God. Ifthere had been He would not have given me such a father, or my mothersuch a husband."
Then still carrying the injured terrier, she went out and glidedthrough the darkness to her mother's grave in the neighbouringchurchyard. The sextons had done their work, and the raw, brown earthof the grave, mixed with bits of decayed coffins and fragments ofperished human bones, was covered with hot-house flowers. Among theselay a gorgeous wreath of white and purple orchids, to which was tied acard whereon was written: "To my darling wife, from her bereavedhusband, John Blake."
Isobel lifted the wreath from its place of honour and threw it over thethe churchyard wall. Then she wept and wept as though her heart wouldbreak.