Part 34 (1/2)
She breaks down.
”For us?” he finishes for her, slowly; and there is great joy in the blending of her name with his. ”Yes, I know; it is what you would have said. Forgive me, my best beloved; but I am glad in the thought that we grieve together.”
His tone is full of sadness; a sadness without hope. They are standing hand in hand, and are looking into each other's eyes.
”It is for the last time,” she says, in a broken voice.
And he says:
”Yes, for the very last time.”
He never tries to combat her resolution--to slay the foe that is desolating his life and hers. He submits to cruel fate without a murmur.
”Put your face to mine,” she says, _so_ faintly that he can hardly hear her; and then once more he holds her in his arms, and presses her against his heart.
How long she lies there neither of them ever knows; but presently, with a sigh, she comes back to the sad present, and lifts her head, and looks mournfully upon the quiet earth.
And even as she looks the day breaks at last with a rush, and the red suns.h.i.+ne, coming up from the unknown, floods all the world with beauty.
CHAPTER XVI.
”The quarrel is a very pretty quarrel as it stands.”
--THE RIVALS.
IT is two days later. Everyone you know is in the drawing-room at the Court--that is, everyone except Dulce. But presently the door opens, and that stormy young person enters, with her sleeves tucked up and a huge ap.r.o.n over her pretty cashmere gown, that simply envelops her in its folds.
”I am going to make _jam_” she says, unmistakable pride in her tone. She is looking hopelessly conceited, and is plainly bent on posing as one of the most remarkable housekeepers on record--as really, perhaps, she is.
”Jam?” says Mr. Browne, growing animated. ”What kind of jam?”
”Plum jam.”
”You don't say so?” says Mr. Browne, with unaffected interest. ”Where are you going to make it?”
”In the kitchen, of course. Did you think I was going to make it _here_, you silly boy?” She is giving herself airs now, and is treating d.i.c.ky to some gentle badinage.
”Are the plums in the kitchen?” asked he, regardless of her new-born dignity, which is very superior, indeed.
”I hope so,” she says, calmly.
”Then I'll go and make the jam with you,” declares Mr. Browne, genially.
”Are you really going to make it?” asks Julia, opening her eyes to their widest. ”Really? Who told you how to do it?”
”Oh, I have known all about it for years,” said Dulce, airily.
Every one is getting interested now--even Roger looks up from his book.