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Carr was still living with Jane, and though she had accepted mildly Gabriella's reasons for postponing her coming to New York, she was beginning somewhat plaintively to question.
Nobody would ever think to look at you that you'd be thirty-seven years old to-morrow." For it was the evening before Gabriella's birthday, and she was at the end of her thirty-sixth year. "I feel young," she answered brightly, "and I feel happy. The children are well, and I've had all the success I could ask. Some day I'm going to own Madame's business, Miss Polly."
I feel guilty to be at home doing nothing and she toiling six long hours." "It is Gabriella's own choice," cried Mrs. Linwood, a slight flush crossing her cheek. "Is it not, my child?" "Your wisdom guided my choice, dear madam," I answered, "and I thank you for it."
Mind you I ain't sayin' I'd lie or steal myself, Gabriella, but I'm poor, and what I'm sayin' is that when you feel that way about it, you're as likely to stay poor as not." But the next day, life, with one of those startling surprises which defy philosophy and make drama, confirmed the most illogical of Gabriella's assumptions.
Smile, my children, indulge in all innocent recreations; let me hear once more your voices echoing on the lawn; let me hear the soothing notes of my Edith's harp; let me see my Gabriella's fingers weaving as wont, sweet garlands of flowers." And now, the house began to be filled up with visitors from the city, who had been anxiously waiting the return of Mrs. Linwood.
We walked, the Carlo R.'s little governess and I, along round above Mondragone and down by Villa Falconieri; the three children on donkeys in front, Gabriella's boys and their cousins. The pleasantness of the children's voices, of their bear-fighting in the train coming back. A splendid day of sun, wind, of dove's-wing distant Campagna view. April 14.
It can't hold a candle to sweet potato pudding, and I wouldn't let the children touch it for fear it might set too heavy in the night. I ain't got much use for Yankee food, nohow." "I hope the place is perfectly sanitary," was Gabriella's anxious rejoinder. "The front room gets some sunshine in the afternoon, doesn't it?" "It's a horrid street.
They walked back slowly through the hot, close streets, and sat for an hour beside her window-sill on which a rose geranium was blooming in an earthen pot. Now and then a breeze entered warily, stealing the fragrance from the rose geranium, and rippling the dark, straying tendrils of Gabriella's hair.
In a few weeks afterwards Lady Gabriella's marriage took place. Our heroine's mortification was much increased by the splendour in which the bride appeared, and by the great share of the public attention which the fair marchioness seemed for some days to engross.
"I have been on the confines of the spirit world, my mother; so near as to see myself by the light it reflected. Death is the solar microscope of life. It shows a hideous mass, where all seemed fair and pure." He laid his hand over his eyes with a nervous shudder. "But I am well now," he added; "I am only suffering from fatigue and excitement. Gabriella's letter found me leaning over the grave.
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