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Updated: June 7, 2025
The Lady Beata's heart throbbed to breaking, but her voice came low and calm stilled with the passion of her gladness, as Caterina's eyes smiled into hers: "It is thine own little son, who hath need of thy love: God's wonderful gift of joy that only mothers know!"
Off ran the three children, and Mrs. Vincent, as she saw them coming, was pleased to see, as she expected, the brightness of Rosy's face reflected in Beata's. "Mother," whispered Rosy, "I didn't say anything to Bee about her perhaps getting one too. It was better not, wasn't it? It would be nicer to be a surprise." "Yes, I think it would.
But one word or look even from her mother was getting to be more to Rosy than all the good-natured little governess's chatter; a nice smile from Martha even, she felt to mean really more, and one of Beata's sweet, bright kisses would sometimes find its way straight to Rosy's queerly hidden-away heart. "You see, Rosy, it does get easier," Bee ventured to say one day.
Why, she would not let me give my winter stockings to Sister Beata's poor girls, but made me darn them and put them by." "Yes, and mine, which were bad enough to give away, she made me darn first," cried Vera. "She is ever so much worse than the superlative about mending one's clothes." "There ought to be another degree of comparison," said Paula, "Botheratissima!" "For, only think!" said Vera.
"Why, I think you are a little bit fatter and a little bit rosier than this time last year. And this is your sister that I don't know," he went on, turning to Rosy, "and why, bless my soul! here's another old friend my busy Bee. I had no idea Mrs. Warwick had left her with you," he exclaimed to Mrs. Vincent. Mrs. Warwick was Beata's mother. I don't think I have before told you Bee's last name.
She listened rather anxiously for Bee's answer, for two or three little things among them something Colin had said of the bad temper Rosy had been in at tea-time had made her afraid there had been some reason she did not understand for Beata's tears. Bee lay still for a minute or two. Then she said gently and rather shyly, "I am so sorry, but I don't know what's right to do.
She fell back on her pillows exhausted by her emotion, while in a low, crooning voice the name she loved to utter broke from her longing lips again, like a threnody: "Figlio dilettissimo!" The Lady Beata's heart was wrung with pity. "Nay, nay, Carinissima," she said, stooping over the couch and speaking with tender decision, "Hagios Johannes could not know what mothers feel!
Beata's headache was not better the next day; and, as the day went on, it grew so much worse that Mrs. Vincent at last sent for the doctor. He said that she was ill, much in the same way that Fixie had been.
No, I think I shall like you, if only you don't make a fuss about how good you are, and set them all against me. I settled before you came that I wouldn't mind if you were pretty or very clever. And you're not pretty, and I daresay you're not very clever. So I won't mind, if you don't make everybody praise you up for being so good." Beata's eyes filled with tears.
She held out her hand, but to her surprise Beata still hung back, clinging to her uncle. "Oh, please," she whispered, "let me go back with you, uncle. I don't care how dull it is I shall not be any trouble to grandmother while she is ill. Do let me go back I cannot stay here." Beata's uncle was kind, but he had not much experience of children.
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