The Bride of the Tomb, and Queenie's Terrible SecretMiller, Alex. McVeigh, Mrs.
Philosophy
The Bride of the Tomb, and Queenie's Terrible Secret
Miller, Alex. McVeigh, Mrs.
United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
She loved them still, for the ties of kinship were very strong in her
heart.
Now her own motherhood had made her even more gentle and loving than
before.
She would have loved dearly to be friends with those proud ones who had
discarded her, and to have shown her beautiful little son to his
grandmother.
"Yes, we will go away to-morrow," she repeated, brushing away a
quick-starting tear. "We must not trouble their peace."
But that evening, when her husband and her uncle had gone out for a
walk, and she was alone with Robbie, she heard a timid and hesitating
rap at her door.
"Enter," she said, looking up in some surprise.
The door opened, and Lady Valentine came abruptly into the room.
She was paler and graver than of old, and her stately form was draped in
the gloomy sables of a widow.
"Georgina!" exclaimed Mrs. Ernscliffe, starting up.
Lady Valentine rushed forward, and threw her arms about the trembling,
hesitating figure.
"Little Queenie, my sweet, wronged sister!" she cried, "will you forgive
my cruelty to you, and love your Georgie again?"
"I have never ceased to love you, Georgie," was the answer.
Lady Valentine pressed a dozen kisses on the sweet lips and wavy, golden
hair.
Queenie put her gently into a chair, and then she saw a little,
dark-eyed lad looking at her with a great deal of wonder.
"What a lovely boy!" she said, "and it is yours, Queenie, I know, for he
looks so like your husband."
"Yes," answered Queenie, proudly; then she led her little son up to her
sister.
"Robbie, you must kiss your aunt," she said.
Lady Valentine stayed a long while with Queenie, and many mutual,
touching confidences were exchanged by the long-parted sisters. At last
she rose to go.
"May I have Robbie a little while?" she asked.
"You may go with your aunt, my dear," said Queenie, kissing the child.
Lady Valentine took his hand and led him away to a room where a
gray-haired lady was sitting alone in the fast-falling twilight with a
grave, rather sad expression on her handsome old face. Georgie lifted up
Robbie and placed him on the lady's knee.
"Grandmother," she said, half-laughing, half-crying, "kiss your
grandson."
"It is Queenie's child!" cried Mrs. Lyle, pressing him to her heart, and
kissing him, then crying over him in her womanly joy and excitement.
"We must take him to his mother now," said Georgie. "Come, mamma," and
Mrs. Lyle followed her without a word.
So when Captain Ernscliffe and Mr. Lyle returned from their walk they
found them all together, Queenie's fair face perfectly radiant and every
one very happy in this touching reunion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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