Country homes -- Fiction; Domestic fiction; England -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction
offer? She would act with secret rapture. To have as her own something
splendid that he had given her, of which the gift had been his signed
desire, would be a greater joy than the greatest she had supposed to be
left to her, and she felt that till the sense of this came home she had
even herself not known what burned in her successful stillness. It was
an hour to dream of and watch for; to be patient was to draw out the
sweetness. She was capable of feeling it as an hour of triumph, the
triumph of everything in her recent life that had not held up its head.
She moved there in thought--in the great rooms she knew; she should be
able to say to herself that, for once at least, her possession was as
complete as that of either of the others whom it had filled only with
bitterness. And a thousand times yes--her choice should know no scruple:
the thing she should go down to take would be up to the height of her
privilege. The whole place was in her eyes, and she spent for weeks her
private hours in a luxury of comparison and debate. It should be one of
the smallest things because it should be one she could have close to
her; and it should be one of the finest because it was in the finest he
saw his symbol. She said to herself that of what it would symbolize she
was content to know nothing more than just what her having it would tell
her. At bottom she inclined to the Maltese cross--with the added reason
that he had named it. But she would look again and judge afresh; she
would on the spot so handle and ponder that there shouldn't be the shade
of a mistake.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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