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Show '58 ®l~ llose an~ SU\ler 'ttbc1)ale he had heard it before. He saw the drifted Stat petals of fallen roses, the moon-shadow on the dial, hours wrong, the spangled cobwebs in the grass and the other spangles, changed to faint iridescence in the enchanted light as Isabel came toward him and in to his open arms. Could marble respond to a lover's passion, could dead lips answer with Jove for Jove, then ' Isabel might have yielded to him at least a to!- eran t tenderness. He saw her now, alien and apart, like some pale stat that shone upon a barren waste, but never for him. Another phrase, full of Jove and longing, floated up the stairway and entered his room, a guest unbidden. t:rr::f ~:'~= :: "1ess tban tbe lDust" He turned to the nurse. "Ask Miss Bernard to come up for a few minutes, will you?" "Do you think it's wise?" she temporised. "Please ask her to come up/' he said, imperatively. "Must I call her myself?" So Rose came up, after receiving the customary caution not to stay too long and avoid everything that might be unpleasant or exciting. She stood for a moment in the doorway, hesitating. Her face was almost as white as her linen gown, but her eyes were shining with strange fires. ''White Rose,'' he said, wearily,'' I have been through hell." " I know," she answered, softly, drawing up a chair beside him. "Aunt Francesca and I have wished that we might divide it with you and help you bear it." He stretched a trembling hand toward her and she took it in both her own. They were soft and cool, and soothing. "Thank you for wanting to share it," he said. "Thank you for coming, for playingfor everything." "Either of us would have come whenever you wanted us, night or day." usuppose it was night, and I 'd wanted you to come and play to me. Would you have come?" "Why, yes. Of course l would ! " 2 59 1.1:lbttc "'"' |
