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Updated: June 17, 2025
This carefully guarded secret would be public property by her own consent before a week was over, for Dicky's announcement of French's return was no news to Deena at that very moment her heart was beating against a letter which assured her he was following fast upon its tracks, and when he came he was not likely to prove a patient lover.
While her own daylight hours were given to her sister, she was always pleased to be out of the way in the evening it left the lovers to themselves though she could not quite free herself from a sense of responsibility to the elder Mrs. Minthrop. Mrs. Star, who was beside Deena, gave a sniff if so fine a lady could be suspected of such a plebeian way of marking her disapprobation.
Polly arrived one bleak December day, the week before Christmas, escorted by Mrs. Minthrop and two maids, and was met at the Grand Central by her husband in a state of boyish excitement. His delight in having his wife with him once more was so genuine that Deena forgave him an amount of fussiness she never before suspected in his easy-going nature.
On that she had existed for two years, and now she was waking up to new needs that stirred her like the prince's kiss. Life in the young Minthrops' dovecote soon settled down into a glorified routine. The elder Mrs. Minthrop returned to Boston, leaving Deena as her lieutenant, and perplexing her with the multiplicity of her charges; apparently Mrs.
So she and Dicky had lived together since the day when Simeon had been laid to rest beside his mother in the churchyard, and Deena had taken up life with such courage as she could muster in the old house.
On the road we overtook a woman and two boys with an ass; she informed us that she was going for Bambarra, but had been stopped on the road by a party of Moors, who had taken most of her clothes and some gold from her; and that she would be under the necessity of returning to Deena till the fast moon was over. The same even the new moon was seen which ushered in the month Ramadan.
French had got into the drawing room before he understood what the servant was saying. Deena had gone, leaving no message for him! His first feeling of surprise was succeeded by one of chagrin; these afternoon chats by her fireside had become so much to him, so much a part of his daily life, that he hated to think they had no corresponding value to her.
It was Saturday, and he trusted to the half holiday for the protection of Ben's presence; his depression of spirits would be less noticeable in general conversation. He arrived on the stroke of the hour set for lunch, and to his chagrin was shown to the library, where Deena was sitting alone.
Deena sat sewing till Stephen came to bid her good-night. "I think it is all arranged," he said, but without the joyousness of his first announcement. He had, perhaps, lost a little of his interest in his friend, Ponsonby, since the incident at the tea table. Deena, with a woman's instinct, guessed at his feelings, and made no effort to detain him.
On her way to her bath she passed the rocking-chair, and lying directly in her path was a little card, yellow with age. Deena picked it up and read: "From Mother to Simeon."
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