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Updated: May 28, 2025
"Tante's servants adore her." "Well, it seems a pity to take such an advantage of their adoration." "Louise is sometimes very clumsy and impertinent." "I can't help thinking that that sort of treatment makes servants impertinent." "I do not care to hear your criticism of my guardian, Gregory." "I beg your pardon," said Gregory. Betty Jardine met him on a windy April evening in Queen Anne's Gate.
And if the burden should ever grow too heavy, and the road cut her feet too sharply, and the joy turn to dust, she will remember always that Tante's arms and heart are open to her at all times, in all places, and to the end of life. And now," this, with a sigh of fatigue, came on a more matter-of-fact note "let a cab be called for me. Louise will follow with my boxes." Karen's tears had ceased.
I suggested that they must have gone on in the omnibus or taken a charrette, and so have passed us unperceived. "And, after all," I added, "we didn't want to enter upon an indissoluble union with them for the rest of the day. Ma tante's deafness is not entertaining, and la petite Marie has nothing to say." "La petite Marie is uncommonly pretty, though," said Müller.
Tante, controlling indignation, was left to stare after him and to regain the throne as best she might, and at these moments Karen felt that Tante's eye turned on her, gauging her power of interpretation, ready, did she not feign the right degree of unconsciousness, to wreak on her something of the controlled emotion.
A succession of images passed with processional steadiness before her mind; the carriage in the Forest of Fontainebleau and Tante in it looking at her; Tante in the hotel at Fontainebleau, her arm around the little waif, saying: "But it is a Norse child; her name and her hair and her eyes;" Tante's dreadful face as she tottered back to Karen's arms from the sight at the lake-edge; Tante that evening lying white and sombre on her pillows with eyelids pressed down as if on tears, saying: "Do they wish to take my child, too, from me?"
Yes; she had met so-and-so and this and that, in Rome, in Paris, in London or St. Petersburg; but no, evidently, she could hardly say that she knew any of these people, friends of Tante's though they were.
I was brought up to think of beauty as the only religion. That is my guardian's religion. It is the religion, she says, of all free souls. And my father thought so, too." It was again the assurance of a wisdom, not her own, yet possessed by her, a wisdom that she did not dream of anybody challenging. Was it not Tante's? "Well," he remarked, "beauty is a large term.
Her fingers slightly tapped her chair-arm. "We must talk. We must see what is to be done." "Do you mean about me, Tante?" Karen asked after a moment. The look of the ghostly room and of the white, enfolded figure seated before her with its restless eyes seemed part of the chill that Tante's words brought. "About you. Yes.
It was with a slight stir of discomfort that Gregory realised more fully from these assessments how final for Karen was the question of Tante's likes and dislikes. They were on the verandah when she paused. "But I think, though the music-room is closed, that you must see the portrait." "The portrait? Of you?" Actually, and sincerely, he was off the track. "Of me?
Her voice was weighted with its longing, its humility, its tenderness. The sound of it seemed to beat its way to Karen through mists that lay about her as Tante's cries and tears had not done. A sharper thrust of pity pierced her. "I do not hate you," she said. "You must not think that. I understand and I am very sorry. But I do not love you. I shall not love you again.
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