"Lady Ariel" VII MEANWHILE in the Pine Bough Bedroom, Jean was writing a letter. "My maid, Celeste, has forwarded to me your letter," she wrote, "and now when I know that I must write you where I am and why I have come here, that at last I must answer your insistent question, oh, Robert!--it is very hard indeed. "How mockingly to-night your words are ringing in my ears! "'And so,' you said that memorable night, 'it is but right for me to tell you now, Jean, that with marriage, if you grant me that happiness, my brave and lonely little mother comes back into my home-life for all time!' "Very handsome and very resolute you looked, but Robert, I wonder if you guessed what a queer resentful chill crept into my selfish heart at your words. Like a grim leper stalking at my side rose the thought that once more Life was ironically robbing me of its finest and sweetest. Oh, Robert, how can I write you now that I did not want your mother in my home and life, intruding upon the first happiness of my lonely life--that I wanted only you! "I asked you to wait without seeing me again until I should write you and with Celeste's connivance I slipped away in the night, bent upon the maddest, crudest whim that ever selfish heart devised. For I came to the little village you had so often described--to Westowe--and I came--yes, I must write it all crude and narrow as it is--to appraise, to coldly analyze and dissect--your mother, to see if I deemed her _worthy_ a place in my home and my new life with you! And out of the rain and dark, Fate's twinkling light lured me to her very door! "For, Robert, I am here in the dear peace and quiet of this pine-scented lane, unknown, unquestioned, trusted as I surely do not deserve, lingering on day by day with this dear, brave little mother of yours, and now I know that it is I who am not worthy, that my very quest was a profanation that makes my cheeks burn with the utter shame of it. And something has stirred in my lonely heart at the sight of her that has been hushed since early childhood. So often these days I find myself repeating those wonderful words of Lowell's: "'The leper no longer crouched at his side, But stood before him glorified, Shining and tall and fair and straight As the pillar that stood by the Beautiful Gate. * * * * * And the Voice that was calmer than silence said "Lo, it is I, be not afraid! In many climes, without avail, Thou hast spent thy life for the Holy Grail Behold it is here."'" "So the leper of selfish resentment no longer crouches at my side. Instead there is something so shining and beautiful that I grow afraid. 'In many climes without avail!' And even that is I, Egypt and India and Syria and the uttermost parts of the world, so in a mad search for life I have gone and gone again and here in the heart of the pines I have found life and peace and love, the Holy Grail.