Family life -- Juvenile fiction; Girls -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction
So Audrey, with another lingering kiss, crept softly away, to spend the
long lonely evening among the shadows in the great drawing-room, where
everything seemed to speak to her of her granny. Here was her work-table,
with her work neatly folded, as she had left it. Here was her book with a
folded piece of paper in it for a marker. She could not bear it any
longer. In her own room the pain might be less cruel.
Audrey sobbed herself to sleep that night, but before that she had made
one more resolution, with her prayers. In all the days to come, God
helping her, she would 'Leave no tender word unsaid.' She would strive
hard that these bitter memories, this reproach, should never again be
hers.
"Out of sight and out of reach they go.
These dear familiar friends who loved us so,
And sitting in the shadows they have left,
Alone with loneliness, and sore bereft,
We think, with vain regret, of some kind word
That once we might have said, and they have heard."
Audrey did not know those lines then, but they expressed the thoughts
which haunted her in those days, even in her dreams.
Early the next morning, after her breakfast, Phipps came to ask her to go
to her granny's room as soon as convenient.
"I will go now. How is she, Phipps? Do you think she is any better,
just a shade better?"
But Phipps only shook her head, and hurried out of the room with her head
bowed. Poor Audrey! Phipps had dashed all the hopes which had risen
afresh with the morning, and sent her to the sick-room unnerved and full
of fears.
But face to face with her granny, so calm and placid and content, fears
seemed wicked, out of place.
"Audrey, dear, before I have my sleep I want to say something to you in
case, later, I may not be able to. When I am gone there are certain
things which I wish you children to have. The lawyer knows--it is all
written down--but I wanted to tell you myself. I want to ask you--and to
ask the others through you--when you wear them to wear them not as
ornaments only, but as reminders; will you, dear Audrey? As reminders
to--to give your sympathy and love, while it can help, not only at the
hour of parting. That is where I have failed. I see it now, and ask
God's pardon." For a moment there was silence in the quiet room; a tear
fell from the dying eyes. Audrey's were falling fast.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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