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Updated: June 17, 2025
"I remember.... Well! we must hope." And then they spoke of matters nearer home; the impending journey to Vienna; a perplexity created by a promise rashly given to Aunt Constance that she should be married from the Ancester town-residence two things which clashed, for how could this wedding wait till the Countess's return? and ultimately of Gwen's own prospects.
"I I shall miss very very much miss pray pardon me I I believe I'm ill a little faint I'd I'd better get out into the air I shall shall miss pardon I I'm not quite myself goodbye, good-bye!" and he staggered unsteadily, half blindly to the door and out into the street without another word. He certainly did look ill. Gwen's face was a study.
It is too much for the Countess after those stairs! She sinks on a chair clutching her fingers tight, with wide eyes on her daughter. It is too terrible to believe. But even in that moment Gwen's beauty has such force that the words "A blind man! never to see it!" are articulate in her mind.
As poor Gwen listened, the rapture of it drew the big tears down her cheeks alas! no longer brown, but white, and for that day at least the dull, dead weariness was lifted from her heart. The Pilot's first visit to Gwen had been a triumph. But none knew better than he that the fight was still to come, for deep in Gwen's heart were thoughts whose pain made her forget all other.
We stood some moments silently gazing into this tangle of interlacing boughs and shimmering leaves, all glowing in yellow light, then Lady Charlotte broke the silence in tones soft and reverent as if she stood in a great cathedral. "And this is Gwen's canyon!"
The sister was thoroughly trans-Atlantic, talked slang, said 'I guess, spoke with an accent, and looked you through and through with an American girl's broad stare. The father and mother were common, to a degree; but the son well, Gwen and I both came very near losing our hearts to him didn't we, dear?" "Speak for yourself," was Gwen's ungracious answer.
There stood the Old Timer, white, fierce, shaking. "Hush!" said the old doctor, pointing at the open door. He was too late. Even as he spoke, there came from the inner room a wild, unearthly cry as of some dying thing and, as we stood gazing at one another with awe-stricken faces, we heard Gwen's voice as in quick, sharp pain. "Daddy! daddy! come! What do they say? Tell me, daddy. It is not true!
Just at the door she paused. "You wait outside, and hear," said she. They held back, in the passage, silent. Old Maisie's voice, on the pillow; audible, not articulate. Two frail hands stretched out in welcome. Two grave eyes, made wild by the surrounding tangle of loose white hair. Those were Gwen's impressions as she approached the bed. The voice grew articulate.
But as they went away Ruth slipped into Lady Gwen's hand the accursed letter, as promised. She had brought it out into the daylight again, unwillingly enough. That was how it came about that Gwen found herself alone with old Maisie that morning.
Every memory was entangled with another. A sort of affright seemed to seize upon old Maisie, making her hand tighten suddenly on Gwen's arm. "Oh, how was that how was that?" she cried. "They were together all together!" "It was only what the letter said," answered Gwen. "It was all a made-up story. Uncle Nicholas was not drowned, any more than your sister, or your child." "Oh dear!"
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