I could not help noticing that though her eyes showed traces of much
weeping she yet wore a singularly tranquil and even radiant look, as
though good news had come to her. Indeed, the whole atmosphere of the
house seemed strangely peaceful.
A servant came in to set the table, and we went upstairs to the little
room within her own room where I was to sleep. A bright fire already
blazed in the grate, and Louise was busy putting out my things. The room
looked so cheerful with its chintz--a green trellis hung with roses on
a white ground--that one could not be gloomy and fearful in it, even if
I did not know that my dear godmother would leave the door between our
rooms open at night and would wake if I but stirred.
Louise helped me to put on the one black gown I possessed, which, as it
happened, was patterned with roses, a crepe de Chine fichu about the
neck, and I asked Louise to take it off and find me something more
becoming; but my godmother would have it so, saying that poor Joan would
not grudge me a few roses, having herself found the roses of Paradise.
That quiet radiancy of my godmother seemed to diffuse itself over
everything. I know I felt happier than I had felt for a long time, and I
tried to put all the trouble, and the thought that I was to marry
Richard Dawson the week before Christmas, out of my mind.
Everything about the dinner-table was so pretty. I could not help
feeling that my godmother had told them it was to be so; and the wax
candles shone on the scarlet berries and russet and orange and crimson
leaves, on the delicate napery and glass and silver; and the fire leaped
and sparkled in the grate. I had a feeling that I and my godmother were
shut in together from the world's trouble, although it waited for us
outside the gate.
After dinner we sat by the fire and talked in a low voice, and I could
not help commenting on the new serene happiness of my godmother's face.
I had always thought it a cheerful face before, although the face of one
who had suffered; but now I wondered that I had thought it anything but
sad.
"You look happy!" I said.
"And I am happy, Bawn, although I shall miss Joan. But she is at rest
with God, and before she died she told me something which set my heart
at rest."
"Ah, I am glad of that," I said.
She leant forward and took my hands in hers, making me turn round so as
to face her.
"Bawn," she said, "there is nothing worth having in the world but love,
nothing but love, nothing but love. I tell it to you, although some
people would think that love had wrecked my life. But I have loved
greatly, and I have been loved greatly, and I would not change places
with any of your wives and mothers of families."
"Yes, I know," I said.
"And if you do, Bawn, why don't you save yourself from this marriage?
The money doesn't tempt you, nor Richard Dawson's coarse comeliness. Why
don't you save yourself, child?"
I shook my head helplessly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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