  ON the following morning the newspapers contained an account of the concert at Manchester House. They contained also an account of a motor accident which had occurred the same afternoon between Hyde Park Corner and Knightsbridge. On the wet pavement Lord Holme’s new car, which was taking Lady Holme to Cadogan Square at a rapid pace, skidded and overturned, pinning Lady Holme beneath it. While she was on the ground a hansom cab ran into the car. At their breakfasts her friends, her acquaintances, her enemies and the general public read of her beautiful singing at the concert, and read also the following paragraph, which closed the description of the accident: “We deeply regret to learn that Lady Holme was severely injured in the face by the accident. Full particulars have not reached us, but we understand that an immediate operation is necessary and will be performed to-day by Mr. Bernard Crispin the famous surgeon. Her ladyship is suffering great pain, and it is feared that she will be permanently disfigured.” The fierce change which Lady Holme had longed for was a reality. One life, the life of the siren, had come to an end. But the eyes of the woman must still see light. The heart of the woman must still beat on. Death stretched out a hand in the darkness and found the hand of Birth. |
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