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Updated: June 17, 2025
Painted in the soft hues of personal experience, prescribed to her needs with a physician's art, doing all that funeral talk can do to raise the final tears from among the heartstrings and pour them in oblation upon the corpse, the pastor's consolation had the effect of some mesmeric hand that weakens our systems while it sublimates our feelings, and Vesta's female nature was almost broken down.
She may have patterned it upon her uncle, or it may have emanated from his ambitious family stock, which, in and around him, had wakened to the vigor of a previous century; but it was so different from Vesta's nature that, while it but made nobler her soul of tranquil piety and ease of ladyhood, Vesta was interested in Rhoda's self-will and business coquetry.
"What ARE, you playing?" cried Bell Merryweather, who had come in quietly, and was watching the proceedings in amazement. "Don't ask me!" Hildegarde replied, "watch and listen, and learn if you can. Oh, this is tragedy, indeed!" For Euleta had thrown herself backward, not without a certain dramatic force, and now lay prone at Vesta's feet; and the children chanted, solemnly,
There were two ladies in the parlor when Vesta went there Grandmother Tilghman and the Widow Dennis. "Good-evening, Vesta," said the old lady, who was stone-blind, but easily knew Vesta's footstep. "William thought you would not go to evening service on account of Mr. Milburn's illness, so I came around to sit till church was over, when he will take me home.
One is round and the other oblong, and the round one has been called the Sibyls', though now it is getting itself called Vesta's the goddess who long unrightfully claimed the temple of Mater Matuta in the Forum Boarium at Rome.
The bewilderment lingered in Vesta's eyes for an instant; then a light came into them. The sunset rushed in one crimson wave over face and neck and brow; she fell back on her pillows, quivering from head to foot. Was she going to cry again?
"I thought when I came here that I had quite got myself in hand; the other day taught me a lesson. I was abominably rude, and I beg your pardon." She held out her hand frankly; Geoffrey took it, and was conscious that, though it was too cold, it had the same quality that Miss Vesta's hand had, a touch like rose-leaves, smooth and light and dry.
Before the weak lady could fall Vesta's arm was around her, and her finger on the table-bell. Servants entered and Mrs. Custis was carried out, her daughter following. When Vesta returned her father was walking up and down the floor with his long silk handkerchief in both hands, weeping bitterly, and speaking broken syllables.
I will go down and give it to her myself, if you will hand it to my sister." "In one moment, Miss Blyth," called Geoffrey, in his most composed and professional tones. Then, seizing Miss Vesta's hand, he almost dragged her into the room, and shut the door. "Don't let her go!" he said, hurriedly, as he sought and poured out the valerian. "Take it yourself, please, Miss Vesta, please!
They would have to bring it out on the platform, just as they did in Vesta's case. She took a car, and a little later she entered the waiting-room of the depot. She lingered about, first in the concourse, where the great iron fence separated the passengers from the tracks, and then in the waiting-room, hoping to discover the order of proceedings.
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